eh
I'm Marina.
I love books and language and breakfast. I'm also an idiot and I have no idea what I'm doing.

water-veiled:

love for love’s sake, for love’s sake alone, love with no expectation of response from the other, love knowing that there is no other

anartisticanomaly:

phantomcat94:

meefling:

You Aren’t Boring I Just Suck At Conversations I’m Sorry: a novel by me

I’m Not Ignoring You I Just Don’t Know What To Say: a sequel by me

I Feel Like I have Nothing Interesting To Say So I Don’t Say Anything At All And I’m Really Sorry Don’t Stop Talking To Me: the trilogy.

apiologies:

me like ‘haha yeah i can DEFINITELY write a five page paper in two hours!! time is a construct, deadlines have no meaning and also i’m dead inside’

Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentment of loss.

━ On Keeping a Notebook by Joan Didion

70years:

Michael Dumontier and Neil Farber

greenseer:

U ever wish u were Mysterious but u can’t stop talking about urself

so tired of doing life. even more tired of my dumb self.

its-slinkyvagabond:

plink, plink, plink

actually my favorite song on that album, tbh

sosa-parks:

Every day I’m like “today imma get my shit together” and by the end of the day I’m like “tomorrow is the day for real”

I don’t say much, I am awkward and uncertain, because whatever I do say might be the wrong thing. I have not suffered enough, I haven’t paid my dues, I have no right to speak. I feel as if I’m standing outside a closed door while decisions are being made, disapproving judgments are being pronounced, inside, about me. At the same time I want to please.

Margaret Atwood, from Cat’s Eye (via violentwavesofemotion)

marinashutup:

being in love is being in awe of another person’s existence and wanting to treat them accordingly