he also once said “i hope this grief stays with me because it’s all of the unexpressed love that i didn’t get to tell her” and i think that’s so beautiful because really, what is grief if not love persevering
Andrew Garfield says people shouldn’t let the fear of grief “lock ourselves off from love, from risk & from truly living fully because it hurts to live fully.”
“It hurts to love fully — it hurts to attach because of the inevitability of the loss that comes with it.
But it's the only way. It's the only way to live a life of vitality and fullness and meaning, and it breaks the kind of calcified, protected, hardened versions of our heart open so we can reconnect to ourselves.
So anyway, I just think grief is a really cool portal into our hearts, so then we can feel the love as well”
(Source: yahoo.com/entertainment/andr…)
i want to read 10 books a day and consume all poetry and learn new languages and study different majors and pick up pottery and learn how to play instruments and own a bookstore and run a cafe and
when jane austen wrote “my heart is, and always will be, yours.” & when tahereh mafi wrote “my heart is yours. please don’t ever give it back to me.” & when holly black wrote “it was yours before i could admit it, and yours it shall ever remain.”
fellas why can’t i be a writer, a librarian, a ballerina, a pianist, a poet, a figure skater, a painter and a cute little bakery owner all at the same time
i resonate with jane austen’s characters a lot because i, too, will stare at you intently across the room and not say a single word then go home and yearn
i want to write movies i want to take pictures i want to write articles i want to make music i want to write plays i want to compose scores i want to make art
fellas why can’t i be a writer, a librarian, a ballerina, a pianist, a poet, a figure skater, a painter and a cute little bakery owner all at the same time
you consumed that media and moved on, i made it my entire personality, i spent every single moment of my day thinking & talking about it, i embraced the brainrot. we are not the same
no one understands my favorite character like i do, not even the authors themselves. like they might have created and written this character out but i know them better & on a far deeper, personal level than they ever will
instant love pisses me off. why are they happy and in love by chapter 3? where’s the yearning? the slow burn? the angst? i need them longingly gazing at each other for at least 300 pages before they finally hold hands
the sexual tension between two enemies dancing at a fancy ball is unmatched. the obvious chemistry, the eye contact as they dance intricately, the subtle glance at each other’s lips, the close proximity while they’re both trying to act unaffected but failing miserably
i can’t kms yet bc i have a severe case of fomo. so many songs i haven’t discovered yet, books i haven’t read, movies & shows i haven’t watched, niche pinterest boards i haven’t made
i like this book, you should read it! (this book shattered my heart and soul into pieces, it emotionally scarred me and caused me so much distress and anguish that i haven’t been able to properly move on ever since)
franz kafka was so real when he said “i think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. if the book we're reading doesn't wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for?” because yes, i too like to read books that make me wanna kms
jane austen saying “if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more.” & nizar qabbani saying “because my love for you is higher than words, i have decided to fall silent.” so in conclusion, men being unable to articulate how much they love you bc it is beyond words>>>
they should invent a way for me to consume 10 different medias at once. what if i wanna read a book and watch a movie and binge a show and listen to music and play a game and watch a video essay and
it’s always “i love her” and never “i worry, sometimes, that my love for her will expand beyond the limitations of my body, that it will one day kill me with its heft.”