Life May Be Sad, But It’s Always Beautiful.

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

-Emily Brontë , Wuthering Heights

Sebastian Pether, master of moonlight. Paintings from (1790-1844) Vkontakte

You know what is fucking raw and beautiful ?? When Hozier sang “and the sights were as stark as my baby and the cold cut as sharp as my baby and the nights were as dark as my baby and half as beautiful too.” He didn’t compare his lover to other things he compared other things to his lover because to him his lover is much more, is the point of reference. Starker, sharper, darker and much more beautiful and I cry when I think about that

reblog if you wear glasses. too many mutuals don't know they have glasses wearers in their midsts

i never ever said it to anyone but no one here knows me so i feel like i can talk about my sexuality questioning and after thinking about it for a few years and changing my opinion a thousand times i feel like i'm homosexual and panromantic and maaaybe also like demiromantic or greyromantic ? something along the lines.

“the more that you say, the less i know” is actually about uni lecturers because the more they talk, the more confused i am and the less i understand </3 

'going insane before an exam' core

simran, full of emptiness

I am OBSESSED with people telling me how they met the love of their life. Just found out my director met his wife through a misdirected email - that’s fate right there.

It’s kinda beautiful how humans are drawn to tragedies. That for thousands of years people have gathered to hear the stories of humanity battling fate, the stars, the gods, itself. Fighting and failing with the idea that, despite the tragedy of it all, there is always something worth fighting for. That there is something to be learned in the debris. That sometimes humanity falls and other times it rises. Though never without a fight. And maybe the tragedy is simply that one must fight to live, and fighting rarely ends without scars. So we tell the stories of our scars to make others feel less alone in their own. That humanity can share in the collective experience of suffering. To let each other know that our stories have worth no matter the outcome. They deserve to be told. There’s tragedy in everything. That doesn’t mean you stop fighting. Stop living. Stop loving. And that hope has transcended time. Which is a tragedy in itself.