get to know me ) favourite book & movie ⇨ the perks of being a wallflower

❝ There’s something about that tunnel that leads to downtown. It’s glorious at night. Just glorious. You start on one side of the mountain, and it’s dark, and the radio is loud. As you enter the tunnel, the wind gets sucked away, and you squint from the lights overhead. When you adjust to the lights, you can see the other side in the distance just as the sound of the radio fades because the waves just can’t reach. Then, you’re in the middle of the tunnel, and everything becomes a calm dream. As you see the opening get closer, you just can’t get there fast enough. And finally, just when you think you’ll never get there, you see the opening right in front of you. And the radio comes back even louder than you remember it. And the wind is waiting. And you fly out of the tunnel onto the bridge. And there it is. The city. A million lights and buildings and everything seems as exciting as the first time you saw it. It really is a grand entrance. ❞


Favorite Books - The Perks Of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

“I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.”


“write about us.”

  • 23 de Julho de 2015
  • Querido Charlie,
  • São duas da manha e eu não consigo parar de pensar nele. Durante o dia tudo fica tão bem, mas quando chega a noite... Tudo começa a me lembrar ele, tudo. Eu tive primeiras vezes com ele, foi a primeira vez que eu amei alguém de verdade, foi a primeira vez que eu vi um garoto falar que me amava, e mais um bando de primeiras vezes, e isso mexe comigo porque agora eu fico lembrando delas e fico com raiva porque ele simplesmente terminou comigo do nada. Ontem fez exatamente uma semana que terminamos oficialmente, hoje faz duas semanas que conversamos sobre terminar. Eu me sinto um lixo, eu ainda amo aquele babaca, eu ainda quero ele. Uma pequena carta, sem parágrafo algum, só para eu desabafar. Boa noite Charlie.
  • Com amor, Joanna

In Year Eight, I won a poetry award
For a little old thing I wrote in ten minutes
The Night Before.
But now, I just write for myself
And call it “Absolutely Nothing”
Because that’s what everything’s all about!
And I can’t get you to look at me the same way
So I couldn’t write a poem called “Sanctuary” again, could I?
This one’s a bit out of control, oh my lord, oh my saviour.
Pin me down, hands clamped, maybe drug my brain -
Only a year until I can do it myself
But for now, I’ll keep swaying
And thinking with regret about my Year Eight poem,
And with jealousy
Because it was so easy to be good
And now I’m finding my place in this hoard of hoarding whores
And wanting to kiss you all,
And I’ll tell someone this
And they’ll look at me different
When all I want right now
Is for all my little worries to burn
And for the floor to solidify.
Kiss me, kiss me all,
And make me forget the words I’ve written.

Chop Chop //