Silda looked at me, over the edge, back at me again then said, “Is that it?”

I gritted my teeth and exhaled in exasperation. “It never is, once you seal the circumstances by asking a question like that.”

I am left to wonder why people insist on asking questions that nature may answer sarcastically or ironically by its own accord. 

Things to do INNNNN SUMMMMMMEEEEEER! (Hope you got the Frozen reference):

  • Read: Casual Vacancy, Jane Eyre, Wide Sargasso Sea, Julius Caesar, Mrs. Dalloway, The Book Thief, The Cuckoo’s Calling, To Kill A Mockingbird
  • Read aloud aloud. I need to learn not to flinch everytime I hear my own voice.
  • Teach myself how to dance. It’s a freedom of expression. :) Someday I’ll need it.
  • Teach myself how to cook. Learn how to cook, come to think of it.
  • Mind palace really needs to be a mind palace. Construction is in order
  • I really need to memorize the periodic table. Really really.
  • Also mental math.
  • Poemsy poeeeeems. A Lit Major is born! 
  • I just really want to be great at English
Watching (500) Days of Summer. Again. I am emotional. Again.

I may be your sun
But someone else will give you flowers
and beautiful weather
And different shades of leaves summer cannot.
If it still does not work after that
And winter’s a lonely time to be by yourself
Keep on waiting;
Soon someone will bring you birds that sing
Trees a lush of green
Flowers gently waking up
And dark, heavy clouds subsiding.
You don’t have to turn on that light anymore
Because from your windows, you’ll see
The dawn, the sun rising
Melting every haunted memory away
Making everything new again
Making you new again.
She’ll bring you
more than
What summer and fall can offer
More than what I or anyone can offer
And she’ll melt
every sadness of winter away.
She will be the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see.

“Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.”
Mark Twain  (via lexophil)

In my brand new shoes, I feel so brand new
With my buttoned down shirt, I’m starting to look like you.
For the first time, I don’t feel the stares
All I know is I am somewhere where

There are lights
And I think they’re all for me
And the whole night
Is lighted up by stars so I can see

How beautiful I became
And how strong I feel
And how everything’s the same
Except that these wounds are healed

I look at my arms so strangely
Still so unused
As to what I can see
As to who I can be

Now they are starting to recognize
After they looked and thought twice
The lady who just returned their smiles
Is the girl who hides in her hair all the while
But how can I tonight?
My hair’s up in a braid, and my eyes are rejoicing at the sight
At what it now sees in the mirror
A clever girl, fifty pounds thinner.

“I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want to do with you
what spring does with the cherry trees.”
Pablo Neruda, “Every Day You Play” (via weaverofstars)

Teas and stars. Aren’t they the same?

How they will be there at the end of the day, pouring in slowly to announce the night. One ripples, one blinks, both heaven sent, none failing. They soothe you in undeclared ways and make you forget about the day behind and the day ahead, even just for a little while. The tea warms the lonely cold inside, and the stars illuminate the tired, sleeping night. You do not sleep, the tea and the stars keeping you company. You try to understand some of their mystery, but nothing seems to come close. The tea grows cold and the stars dim while sleep comes slowly throughout the night; and when at last both are gone, you know it is time to sleep.

ɑ