Another’s negative perception of you is not meant to destroy your dreams, it’s supposed to encourage you to do even better in spite of them.
—  E. Grin
He stared up at the stars: and it seemed to him then that they were dancers, stately and graceful, performing a dance almost infinite in its complexity. He imagined he could see the very faces of the stars; pale, they were, and smiling gently, as if they had spent so much time above the world, watching the scrambling and the joy and the pain of the people below them, that they could not help being amused every time another little human believed itself the center of its world, as each of us does.
—  Neil Gaiman, Stardust
You’ll go through your entire life not knowing who you are but you’re not supposed to know, that’s the thing. You’re supposed to find someone who does.
—  ~Excerpts from a book I’ll never write

February came in snowdrops. The windows frosted. Hearts stuck to sweater sleeves.

We were mapping out star trails.
I remember.

This one leads to a dream turned nightmare.
That one I named heartbreak.
The closest route walks backwards.
The most dangerous is the prettiest.

Outlined in stardust. Glowing on the outer-edges.
I haven’t forgotten.
They all trace back to you.

—  A scribbler // Star Trails
I think about you from time to time, you know? Not in an ‘I miss you, and I want you back’ kind of way, but more in an 'I hope you’re doing okay, and you’re happy’ kind of way.


Do you think about me at all?

3:00 a.m. chronicles. 

I found true perfection beneath your flaws.
You’ll always be mine and I’ll always be yours
—  Nari. 10:00pm // This I know.
There’s something about you. The way my name rolls off your tongue makes my heart skip and click its heels. Your freckles like specks of the earth crawled underneath your skin, nestling in your warmth, cowering from the whirling snow outside. Your eyes, like a crinkled piece of paper, torn from the night sky of white paint splatters and galaxies and frosty breath. Your smile, teeth of jewels and pearls, a perfect waxing crescent. I think I’m scared. I’m not ready to fall in love again.
—  2.9.16 | 40/366