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


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




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.


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


Michael Dumontier and Neil Farber


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.


plink, plink, plink

actually my favorite song on that album, tbh


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)


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