Is It Possible To Have The Most Intoxicating Love And The Most Chilling Pain Coursing Through Your Veins

seriously like no those aren’t notes on acid nomenclature, they’re detailed plans to overthrow my country’s corrupt monarchy actually

okay i am genuinely curious since you read so many books and it feels like every week you are posting abt a new one…

how many books do you think you have in your tbr??

i actually only have seven at the moment, and sometimes they don't even stay on my tbr for long, but i usually add books along the way so its really just endless

Biggest pain in life is loving the curry but running out of poratta/ chapathi/ naan/ dosa to dip it in

oh my god

this pang feeling in my chest, it won’t ever leave. my heart is born to carry the weight of my suffering. maybe you think that its only purpose is that of pumping blood in my body, blood that heats up when I hear your name: out of anger, out of love. I don’t even know. I’m not the same as I was before I met you. you brought up the worst in me. I lied for you, I lived for you, I loved for you, I hated for you and I still wonder if you ever appreciated any second of it. now I suffer because I don’t know who I am to you. am I just a friend to you? was I ever supposed to be your friend? do you still want to hold me tight at night and caress my hair? do you still dream of a life we could’ve lived together? does your heart still skip a beat when you hear my name? do I mean anything to you anymore? I want you to suffer, the same way I am. I want you to reminisce all of those moments together. I want you to mourn the loss of having me in your arms. I need to you to be stuck like me. I can’t ever imagine you moving on from me.

an artifact

I wish to leave behind an artifact. because even today I leaf through my old notebooks, I run my hands over my legacy. though I can never re-remember my thoughts I can see the ones I deemed fit to put onto paper. and some of it is silly, I won't lie. I look back and ponder my past priorities. yet it is still an artifact--it does not have to philosophical or world-changing to do so. it captured a moment in my life, encapsulated it into pen ink. although I type and I type I would be remiss if I didn't say it scares me how easily I could lose my life's work. in paper I can never lose it. even when the ink fades my heavy handwriting will leave indents in the paper, leave a mark on me. I guess for that reason it is good that I write like my ink will fade in five minutes. in the grand scheme of time, five minutes is all my life will amount to. I can only hope that that five minutes left a tiny mark on the world--a problem fixed, a person to be remembered. and even after my five minutes is up (though once I think about it more, it adds up to more like five seconds) my artifacts will be left behind. even when the last person has forgotten me, may some poor soul happen upon my inner thoughts and dreams.

pretty big fan of every woman ever ngl.

I adopt all the people with no place to go, now my lunch table is this eclectic mess of people I love

I found myself wishing I were more delicate, more feminine, more lovely, more docile; I wanted to be shorter, to have a more feminine face, a more feminine body.

I then realized that there is nothing more feminine than loving another woman, and that my constant desires to change were also linked to the fact that I wanted to change my sexuality, I wanted to be more straight and be interested in boys like all the other girls I know.

the lesbian urge to fall in love immediately and run away to live together