false0r3ality - Tumblr blog

[false0r3ality]

okay so my friend’s parents are friends with pedro pascal and apparently he’s gay and hasn’t revealed it to the public. when he comes out y’all will believe me

[false0r3ality]

there’s so much i want to do, and there’s so many limitations. i, by no means, want to live forever. but i want the opportunity to do more than one can do in one lifetime, to appreciate everything life has to offer.

a human body has a limit. i want mine to be pushed to its limit, and i want to die satisfied.

but in one tiny and fragile human life, i can’t be a poet, an actor, a composer, and a painter. in eighty years, i can’t be a mother, a model, a cinematographer, read every book ever written, master violin and piano, settle down in a cottage and visit every country. in this minuscule fraction of a millennia, a person like me, lost in the middle of endless possibilities, can’t be fluent in fifty languages, be a millionaire, fall in love, and live out my days in sweet lonesome.

so how do i choose?

[false0r3ality]

of course i want love, but i would love an autumn kind of love: dim candlelight when snuggling by the fire, sweaters rubbing against each other in hugs, pointing out the leaves on the ground on walks, being stuck inside together because it’s too cold out, kisses more sweet than the cinnamon rolls we bake together, going to museums to look at romanticism paintings and knowing that we know what romance is.

[false0r3ality]

dusty, démodé shelves; stained glass; forgotten tales; the sound of flipping through pages; forbidden hallways; yellowing parchment; portraits of long-dead poets; clutter forming on old desks with intricate legs; timeworn air that hasn’t escaped books in decades; a harp in the corner, taunting the silence; the aroma exuding off of dim vanilla candles; creaky wooden staircases; frosted windows; books and books, and more books.

[false0r3ality]

welcoming bird nests into your window sills; being lulled to sleep by wind chimes; the scent of pumpkins, cinnamon, and rain; feeling your hair kiss your back; soapsuds and pearls; sweet, sweet lonesome; black ink tears on the poetry pages; rose powdered blush; homemade paint and berry collecting.