An Old English word for library was “bōchord”, which literally means “book hoard”, and honestly I really think we should go back to saying that because not only does it sound really fucking cool, but it also sort of implies that librarians are dragons.
I want to write you letters and take pictures of you with a polaroid.
I want to walk with you to your door after a night of holding your hand.
I want to spend our evenings reading books by a fire and candles.
I want to invite you over for a meal out of my grandma’s cookbook.
I want to escape to a place where the simplest things mean the most.
Just let it be. If he loves you, then he’ll come back. If he follows you or still looks at you, then he still loves you. Live your life right now. Kiss multiple boys, flirt with strangers, hug your friends, & dance like it is your last time dancing. You deserve life. Forget about him for now.
something an old friend told me today & it honestly opened up my eyes.
She’s in love with words from the book. She even loved the smell of old books and how she flipped the pages. She loves every detail of it until you came and turned to you. She loves your inner and outer flaws. She accepts you for who you are and she won’t trade you for any book in the whole universe. She’s with you the moment you taught her not to read but to love.
Sometimes I wonder whether or not to blame you for the fact that you didn’t know how to love me. Maybe it wasn’t your fault that you’d pushed yourself onto me the way that you did. But then maybe it was.