musingqueen

[musingqueen]

the most romantic thing a person can do is read and annotate your favorite book and then give it to you.

[musingqueen]

[musingqueen]

stormy weather, music, annotated books, libraries at midnight, handwritten notes, sunrises, red lipstick, messy hair, mythology, art, empty streets, coffee, writers, poets, theatre, stars, journals

[musingqueen]

its all i want……

[musingqueen]

richard siken, the worm king’s lullaby; from “war of foxes”

[musingqueen]

  ― Billy-Ray Belcourt, A History of My Brief Body

[text ID: To love someone is firstly to confess: I'm prepared to be devastated by you.]

[musingqueen]

The ocean of your love is gentle,

The ocean of your love is strong,

It can wreck havoc and consume your soul

Or it can caress your mind with a softness for which you’ve always longed.

So darling, what is the forecast today?

Is it sunny or do you feel an incoming storm?

- sheya

[musingqueen]

I live for rainy days, summer skies, orange popsicles, blank sheets, stray dandelions, my feet digging into sand, second hand books with handwritten notes, scented candles, fairy lights, bright colored socks, midnight drives, the sound of the teapot whistling on a Sunday morning. I realised, like most humans, I do not live for the big moments. I'm alive because of the miniscule details that seem to breathe life into me and keep me whole.

[musingqueen]

What baffles me is the human ability to love after being hurt and betrayed over and over again. My heart yearns to love and to be loved inspite of it being bruised and torn. It makes me feel almost warrior like. Courageous, strong and always ready to face another battle. So, bring it on. Love me, hurt me and watch me rise again as I welcome you with an open heart.

[musingqueen]

Deadlines and submissions are going to be the death of me :')

[musingqueen]

[musingqueen]

“I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here.”

— Laurie Halse Anderson

[musingqueen]

“You’ll meet a hundred different people who will describe you in a hundred different ways, don’t dwell too much on the kind of impression you make. Remember, there are a thousand paintings of the sun, but only one that rises and sets each day.”

— Ekta Somera

[musingqueen]

Ik it's ironical to post this here but explains why social media has the affect it has on us. It reduces us to beings that exist within words and commas. A handle that you feel entitled to pass your opinion on or judge within the vicinity of the safety of your screens.

[musingqueen]

What baffles me is the hype that Squid Game received. I'm not necessarily saying it's a bad show. But it gives off a Takeshi's Castle x The Hunger Games vibe. The concept isn't entirely new and the gorefest further desensitizes its viewers. The violence isn't just disturbing but when you tie it to the concept of unveiling human nature at its core by pitting them against each other like pawns, it just straight up becomes depressing as well. But would I binge watch it on a weekend? Probably.

[musingqueen]

I am not a writer. I pretend to be one but I really am not. I do not know how to string up words into polished sentences to make you feel better.

What do I know?

I know that I like Christmas. I know that I like sitting in my room with lights switched off and write under the minimal illumination of the fairy lights stringed outside on the Christmas tree. I know that at the moment I am dealing with a broken heart but a more than sound and rational mind. I know that things will get better. Life gets better. You get less anxious. You start waking up with more zeal than before. You make it through the day without taking multiple naps. Your heart eventually stops bleeding and it heals itself. You go about your day without pulling yourself down at every chance you get. You start writing more. You start finding peace in your solidarity. You start humming while taking showers. You start treating yourself to the snacks that your mom keeps stocking up in the hopes that you stop starving yourself. You extend your shower time to pamper your skin with the body lotion your sister bought for you because she remembered how much you like the smell of coffee on your skin. You sit beside your dad while he watches that travel channel you hate so much. This time you smile with an open heart as he proclaims his future travel plans instead of dismissing his innocent banter. You don’t end up waiting for hours to reply to a text scripting out the perfect answer. You don’t doubt yourself. You start owning up to your mistakes. You work on yourself. You recognize your destructive patterns. You fix it. You try to fix it. You grow plants because they cheer you up. You read ferociously. You write more. You binge on Grey’s Anatomy years after the hype has died down because you still find it relatable. You live. You live and you live a little more.

[musingqueen]

You make me want to write poetry, yet rob me of all words.