My Great Uncle

nvm he left me on read :’(

i hate time

it only moves slow when i actually want something to happen

its been less than 20 minutes since i messaged this guy and it feels like its been half an hour wtf

tweed jackets, corduroy pants, brown trousers, oxford shoes, white button ups, brown leather, heavy sweaters, coffee rings, ripped out pages, thick belts, wire rimmed glasses, dusty books, quiet spaces, low lighting, dark wood, the picture of dorian gray, thick paper, expensive pens, figering brushing while reaching for the same book, long eye contact, small classes, close relationships with teachers, being an enigma, disappearing without explanation, wilting flowers, long coats, thrist for knowledge, thick volumes of ancient words, reading poetry aloud, old watches, golden jewelry, classical music, red wine, black coffee, music played on the piano, close knit groups of friends, a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.

i used to think that icarus’ death was just a tragic accident—the kind so prevalent in greek mythology, where the hero survives the most dangerous part but tragedy befalls in the most unexpected/preventable way as a result of hubris/arrogance/carelessness. but icarus’ fate was no accident. tragic, yes, but also beautiful in its inevitability: a tribute to the inexorable entanglement between love and death, desire and destruction, intimacy and decay — all of which are ultimately just forms of want and loss. after all, everything has a price, an equal and opposite reaction.

desire is synonymous with fire. it’s something i think mortals are only capable of experiencing in tiny doses: little fires in our guts, live wires down our spine, warm flushes across our cheeks. like taking very small sips of too-hot tea, desire must be drawn out over a lifetime of intimacy—lest it burn us up completely. but apollo feels things with all his immortal intensity: he is pure fire and light and heat. i am not sure there exists a purer form of love than that of the sun.

this is why icarus’ fate is no accident, nor another allegory on the dangers of hubris. it was inevitable from the start. the same way achilles’ virility and vitality was paid for with his death at such a young age, the heat from apollo’s fleeting, fatal moment of desire for icarus is the same as a lifetime’s worth of slow-burning love between two mortals.

i like to believe that icarus didn’t lose his life—not exactly. he just lived it all at once in a single, blazing moment of intimacy with the sun.

“Aphrodite, the goddess of breathless romances, of honeyed breaths, of feverishly promised forevers.”

— Nikita Gill, from “Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths & Monsters,”

HAMLET????

renaissance in the 21st century

okay i should stop im over dramatic

i hate time

it only moves slow when i actually want something to happen

its been less than 20 minutes since i messaged this guy and it feels like its been half an hour wtf

i hate time

it only moves slow when i actually want something to happen

its been less than 20 minutes since i messaged this guy and it feels like its been half an hour wtf

I would give anything to read about the winter Bunny and Henry spend together in Rome. Please. Just two hundred pages of Bunny eating gelato and annoying the ever living shit out of Henry. Please. That’s all I want.

If anyone did this to me I would immediately fall in love you

how to love a dark academic:

• write them letters and seal the envelopes with fancy wax seals

• buy them books

• write them poetry

• quote shakespeare, or really any other author or playwright to them

• read and discuss books with them

• listen to their 3 am rants on how we could've heard oscar wilde's voice if he'd had lived just a tad longer

• help them study