there is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear. there is another theory which states that this has already happened.

can't a girl just do the best she can?

https://t.me/amuseumofmyheart here you go <3

"have you seen my son? have you seen my beautiful boy? tell him i miss him."

this is for the rotten girls. the girls who think that there is something inherently evil and sinister inside of them. the girls who are fundamentally flawed. the girls who can’t recognise their own reflection in the bathroom mirror at times, and when they do, are repulsed by it. the girls who have something crawling beneath their skin and can feel it when they try to fall asleep. the girls who need to see their own blood from time to time to be reminded that they are human. the girls who always loved ghost stories, because they too feel like a house with unknown corridors and rooms with shut doors that they are too afraid to enter. the girls who get told they say sorry a lot and always answer “i feel sorry a lot”. the girls who feel like they were born inside out. the girls who think there is something from a past life still haunting them. the girls with mothers that tell them they make them nervous. the girls who find peace deep inside the woods or abandoned buildings. you're not alone.

"i've been to a lot of churches and this, with you, is the closest i've come to ever experiencing god."

is this the will of the divine, their curse upon me, earthly punishment? orpheus retrieved euridice from the depths of hades only to lose her again, and we are half that distance. yet, the pain is visceral. it is not only in my mind, the ache. it is physical, primal, i’m being ripped to shreds. but if i could stretch myself across the surface of the earth thin enough to reach him, i would. even if it meant he’d only meet a fraction of me. even if it meant being the laughingstock of olympus.

they don’t subside. it’s too late now. my feet meet the ground differently than they did when i was fifteen. and maybe i wasn’t evil, maybe i was just learning, maybe i still am. part of me always reaches for you to share news, even now. it’s instinct, impulse. my body wishes you’d stayed to watch it age, change. i’m not little like i once was, like i once felt, like i sometimes still feel. you never used to make me feel that way, but now you do. i suppose you and i simply grew in different directions. but it’s been so long that even with the nasty weather eating away all our dirt, i don’t think i’ll ever be able to discern my own roots from yours.