U realize u have grown when physical attraction is not enough for you

Ppl who had time for romance in high school we are so different. i was busy fighting for my life in my head

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing (so devoted the lines blur)

So many books to read but not enough money.

it’s so attractive when someone is all about you and isn’t afraid to show it.

It's just me and my books against the world

I have two moods.

1. Constant panic and worryng about every little detail

2. It is what it is

I just read the song of Achilles and well- yeaaah… 

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

currently trembling in the dark crying in my room vomiting on the floor screaming into the void wishing i was dead and 3ft under the ground

thinking of achilles and patroclus finally meeting in elysium after thetis marks his name on their grave;

achilles jumps at him and presses his nose against his like he used to in their youth. patroclus holds him, and achilles hides his face on his chest and sobs profusely. achilles cries and cries and cries, asking for forgiveness. patroclus just holds him close, reassuringly, "there's nothing to forgive"— and how could there be? achilles' love for him was so big that it even made the gods fearful. achilles finally looks at him, with tears in his eyes.

he smiled at me, and his face was like the sun.

ACHILLES WENT MAD BECAUSE THE OTHER HALF OF HIM WAS RIPPED AWAY AND THE ONLY THING LEFT WAS A WAR WEAPON WHO DIDNT KNOW HOW TO DO ANYTHING EXCEPT KILL. PATROCLUS WAS HIS SOFTER AND BEAUTIFUL SIDE, THE SIDE THAT MADE UP ALL THINGS THAT WEREN’T DESTRUCTION, THE SIDE THAT BROUGHT OUT HIS LYRE AND LISTENED TO HIM SING AND WHO LOVED THAT PART OF HIM MORE THAN HIS FAME. PATROCLUS WAS HIS SONG, AND HE COULDN’T PLAY OR FUNCTION WITHOUT IT. THAT’S WHY IT’S CALLED THE SONG OF ACHILLES

The true blasphemy of literature is the romanticization of romance. They make it beautiful—all soft words, and elegant lines—and enchanting, with magic sparkling in the margins.

And you can feel it in the depths of your soul, an unexplored ocean of laughter and tears and dreams all melded together.

The yearning of a kiss that brushes against the steady and so so warm pulsing beat of life—against the smooth skin of a lovers neck. The desperation to touch another being and feel that they’re alive, right there next to you—right there, and never leaving.

To love and be loved is a jewel among treasures and all that we each seek—all that we each desire.

It burns and it burns and it burns.

and then?

and then.

The book is over.

And you remember that love like that doesn't exist.

Not in the real world.

And all you can do is cry.