mayet-writes

[mayet-writes]

real

*Spends a few hours writing a thing to no response*

Not sure what to make of this. Kinda want to go hide.

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Fem! Fyolai <33

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everyday i fall more and more in love with your fydor and nickolas

i questioned every decision i have ever made in my life while painting the clothes and fabric in this

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I was never interested, not really in anything. All my passions died down, but I always wondered why it was like that. Why must my own mind be my own greatest enemy– why must it be the thing that beats the passion out of me, why must it be the thing that dirties my thoughts, the thing that rottens my work, why must it be the thing that clashes against everything that I regard as me.

When I asked my father about this he simply laughed and said that it was my lack of discipline. Perhaps to some extent he is correct, perhaps it is me that must control the childish nature of my thoughts. But I never understood that. How is it possible to control the uncontrollable? How is it possible to filter the source? It is the same as drying a river in an attempt to stop flooding then wondering where all the water went. 

But I didn't give up with that ideal, I must be disciplined. I said to myself, I must control what i think, i must control how i feel, i must control myself, i must control. I spent countless nights staring at my empty, and at that time, rotten ceiling. Wondering why I was not like my parents, why I was so unmotivated, why I was so childish and silly. I envied the quiet smart girls, who were able to understand anything ever so quickly. I envied how everyone adored it when they spoke the smallest of words.

To be honest, rereading those two paragraphs it just sounds like I was a child who wanted endless attention and was just merely jealous, and I was. I admit it, I was a shitty child and a shitty teenager and will be a shitty adult. I think it's better to admit it now than to worry senselessly why people don't like me or why people find me insufferable, or maybe I just like to make myself a villain instead of working through to why I must feel this way. I find it interesting how after years of analyzing myself, years of explaining to myself why I feel the way I feel, years of explaining why others feel the way they feel, it is interesting how the one person I finally give up on, the one person who I stop giving excuses and chances for is none other than me. Perhaps if I was kinder to myself, perhaps if I simply fought against instead of accepting then maybe I would be motivated, then I would love myself the way a child loves her mother; but instead I hate myself the same way a child hates her mother. 

Sometimes I wonder that maybe, perhaps, if I was born in a different time period, if I was born in a different family, in a different country, in a different world. Maybe I wouldn't have these thoughts, maybe I wouldn't be this type of person. Maybe I would be something more, something better than what I am now. Sometimes i grief the person i could be, the person i should be. Sometimes i stare and wonder that how good i couldve been. But as fucking elsa once said, its time to fucking let it go

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the girls are fighting againnn

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tag yourself: autumn edition

tea or hot chocolate? cozy books or halloween movies? plaid or corduroy? foggy mornings or twinkly nights? orange or black? pumpkin or apple pie? wool or velvet? picking fruit or carving pumpkins? libraries or coffee shops? cinnamon or peanut butter? spooky or cozy halloween? candles or fairy lights?

[mayet-writes]

to live by the hunger of your curiosity is a life you should not become attached to– for at any moment, your curiosity will be satisfied and you will no longer have the need- no- the want to explore the strangeness of the creature before you. You will receive your answer, whether you like the answer or not[15:48]

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entering my british men era for these two

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Sherlock after the newspapers exposed Liam as the Lord of Crime:

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Memory-sort of idk

You're the sun, Aceline. You were blessed enough to remember everything that has ever been able to weigh you down, you will know why you fight, why you take gasps of air, and why you continue to live, yet I will forever be haunted by the fuzz of my brain. I will not remember them Aceline. you've always seemed to be able to shine ever so brightly without me, why should I act so selfishly as to absorb your wonderful ray? I know that I will miss you, and I know that you will miss me, as the moon misses the stars in the morning sky, and as the ocean misses its sand when it strays away. It is only a cycle of life my dearest, and I only wish to be able to witness the light that you shine ever so brightly. Yet I know, we both do, that I will not. And I am sorry, to put you through all of this. But I always knew-- that when I would exist in this world, I would want it to be done by your hands and your hands only. No one else will ever come close as you are to me. Please, my beautiful Rose, continue and prove everyone who ever doubted you wrong, and I will greet you with open arms in the next life, my wonderful darling.

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MEGAMIND WAS THE BACKBONE OF EVERY PHASE I HAD

"you can't make an m/f relationship enemies to lovers bc it's always toxic and abusive" DO MEGAMIND AND ROXANNE MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?????

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found a new necklace <3

Sherlock's hands.

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THIS IS GONNA BE LIKE A GOOD ASS INTRODUCTION TOWARDS ME CUZ I FR NEED MUTUALS LMFAO

my name is mayet

my fav color is red

i write stuff

i can do drabbles for urfav ships (not for free tho /j )

my prns are ze/zier/zem ya

okay i have nothing more abt sorry u guys

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he also gets down to beat poetry

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she

I also remember asking my father where she went. Why she left us.

"She went to where people like her go." He would always say.

But "she" was a different person to everyone, to the people she was an idol, a queen, a God even.

To the servants she was a story, a story that changed its plot with each new chapter. They witnessed every sentence and every word.

But to my father, she was his wife. She was his general, his right hand, his second instinct. Or so that is what he says she is.

To me she was a mother, I think.

I never really knew.

[mayet-writes]

William James "Hair is blowing in the wind and it's beautiful" Moriarty

(in short: we understand you, Sherlock)