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WHY S O SILENT GOOD MESSIEURS ( if its spelled like that idk ) DID YOU THINK THAT I HAVE LEFT YOU FO R GOOD 

okay really though i have not died however posting as a small announcement!! this blog got overwhelming and in truth.. not fun anymore.. i’ve been focusing on real life things and ive been immensely happy!! hence me randomly disappearing like erik after all i ask of you however i DO miss christine and writing i love you all so much but i decided to have a very private blog which i wont be giving out only to a very very select few. if you find me great!! and if you’d like to follow me there i would absolutely love to continue or form any convos, thread ideas etc but i want this to be fun again and by that i mean make it smol, with friends and just expanding christine! so i wont be logging on here anymore. all the best!! love you all angels <3

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No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.

Aesop, The Lion and the Mouse (via philosophyquotes)

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i knew you could never care for me. is this you being the hero and killing the beast?

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I have no notion of loving people by halves; it is not my nature. My attachments are always excessively strong.

Jane Austen (via quotemadness)

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guys , guys hear me out.... phantom of the opera isn’t a love story its about a young woman dealing with grief and sorrow in an unhealthy way but overcomes it  and while theres love story aspects no one ends up happy , literally no one gets a full happy ending its not a love story its tragic , are you listening heather its a tragedy i t s

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PRIMA DONNA. 

°◦ ♔    ——  CRYING IS FOR THE WEAK , CRYING IS FOR THE BROKEN  :  was she truly broken ? years of   harsh   words spoken by her mother had not broken her . years of   harassment   from peers had not broken her . yet now after the years of   TORMENT   for this demon within the shadows , was this the thread that finally snapped her ? or perhaps , she had   broke   years ago & alas she was merely an excellent   actress .

mother had   crafted   her almost perfectly , perhaps it was then when she was merely a small child , maybe she had   broken   then . if one looked deeply would they see the scars that were placed like pieces on a   puzzle .   would one see how the threads within her were   entwined & tangled ,   how with each carefully thread piece one slight tug could completely   shatter   her .

here in the darkness of the catacombs , she could truly show the agony , the misery , & the brokenness inside her .  ( I know I’m not enough , I was NEVER enough , mother made sure that this I knew . ) her inner thoughts playing at the forefront of her mind . ( I deserve no pity , I deserve exactly what is handed to me . )  yet alas the person she would least expect to call   friend   stands before her . expressing with careful words & acknowledging what mother never did , her   FEELINGS .   this creature who seemed to be crafted by the   angels   themselves , showing her   kindness   when she herself would feel no pity .

——    ❝  daae ,  you wish to walk with me ?  I guess if you are truly that fearfully I could   accompany   you . a cup tea sounds quite charming .  ❞

SORROW WAS A PLAGUE  ;  it ran rampant  , devoured what lay  in it’s wake , it festered it rooted deep  &  lingered to decay you over time. grief was it’s sole companion , with interlocked hands they forged a path of bereavement which she traipsed with bare feet  and trust swelling her foolish , naive heart.  which inflicted wounds left soles bleeding and yet she winced , she grimaced,  hope was an ember which never extinguished ,  love and joy was flowing lively through her veins in hopes of what lay at the cusp.  sorrow does not discriminate ,  this thought is one that echoes silently as she watches with intent and the dwindle of sympathy far off in the whites of her doe eyes  ,  gas lamp  in one grip while the other petite hand outstretched.  (    take it.  go on.   a benevolent siren sings her hymnal to what she once was expected to deem her rival   )    her roseate smile blossoms ,  closed mouth still yet a small hum resonates upon her lips in affirming , gaze of a honey eyed lamb and the prideful lioness , of viridian iridescence that for once did not flare with anger but with a suffocated dolor.  she would never pry  ,  no  !    so she only exhales ,  a fleeting suspire lilted to a short laugh 

  ❛  it is a childish fear , one i cannot seem to shed really. you would be doing me quite a favor signora. !    ❜   play the role of the ignorant one , of the ingénue of you wear it so well do you not christine daaé  ?   simply because she is one  ,  but  not blind to a troubled soul nor does she wear the skin as one would easily slip on  a glove.   it wails  , it harbors into the windows the eyes resemble  ;  a treacherous act.   soft steps taken ,  feather - like strides to the dressing room  :   not a whisper , not a sound.   habitually eyes arise to the rafters  ,  yet there was no goosflesh , nor prickling of the skin , no stroking at the spine a enticing yet frightening signal to his presence.  ❛   e -  english tea  ?    ❜     snapped from her reverie ,  tethering herself to the ground  ,   swiveling her look to the prima donna   ❛   do you drink much tea back home  ?   in my homeland we had a specific time for treats.  Fika.  but never really got picky with our tea. then again i was very young and was not particularly found of the idea of drinking leaves soaking in hot water.   ❜    a light laugh , an airy chime falls  &  fills the air in hopes to lighten  the atmosphere’s suffocating air   ❛   did          did you get lost signora   ?   why         why were you all alone there  ?   ❜

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        BOOK STARTERS VOL.27     ( PHANTOM OF THE OPERA )    ( GASTON LEROUX )  

❛ If I am to be saved it is because your love redeems me. ❜

❛ All I wanted was to be loved for myself. ❜

❛ I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer. ❜

❛ Shall we pity him? Shall we curse him? ❜

❛ You have a heart that can hold the entire empire of the world. ❜

❛ Look, I am not laughing now, crying, crying for you. ❜

❛ Tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead. ❜

❛ You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! ❜

❛ Are people so unhappy when they love? — Yes, when they love and are not sure of being loved. ❜

❛ Your soul is a beautiful thing. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept tonight. ❜

❛ Blood!…Blood!… That’s a good thing! ❜

❛ Now I want to live like everybody else. I want to have a life like everybody else. ❜

❛ You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. ❜

❛ I should be as gentle as a lamb; and you could do anything with me that you pleased. ❜

❛ I am going to die of love, I am dying of love. That’s how it is. I loved you so. I still love you so. ❜

❛ I am dying of love for her, I tell you! If only you knew how beautiful she was when she let me kiss her. ❜

❛ He fills me with horror but I do not hate him. How can I hate him? ❜

❛ Holy angel, in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest. ❜

❛ Nothing is colder or more dead than my heart. ❜

❛ I had loved an angel and now I despise a woman. ❜

❛ Our lives are one masked ball. ❜

❛ Why do you condemn a man whom you have never met, whom no one knows and about whom even you yourself know nothing? ❜

❛ He would commit murder for me. ❜

❛ If I don’t save her from the hands of that humbug, she is lost. But I shall save her. ❜

❛ We will go from here together or die together. ❜

❛ Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves. The kind that gives you a thrill, when you think of it. ❜

❛ Destiny has chained you to me forever. ❜

❛ You must never ask me that. ❜

❛ Are you afraid that you will change your mind? ❜

❛ You must come and fetch me in my dressing room at midnight exactly. ❜

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— jane austen

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The Phantom of the Opera (2004) dir. Joel Schumacher

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i apologize for my lack of ic writing  &  messaging/IM !  i’ve been preoccupied off tumblr socially and working and stuff and tbh its wholesome and organic but i hope to write tomorrow ♡

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But the heart has its own memory and I have forgotten nothing.

Albert Camus, The Fall (via arpeggia)

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… always rub honey into wounds instead of salt.

Meggie Royer, Writings For Winter (via books-n-quotes)

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Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. Sad too. Touch, touch me.

James Joyce, Ulysses (via rosedesoie)

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oh my goodness gracious i am just so terrible at kissing…….. it’s so embarrassing really…….. someone should help me not be terrible………… by kissing me……… on the mouth…….. multiple times……. come to think of it i am downright dreadful at holding hands and watching movies too………….

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r.achel p.lattens fight song is christines anthem thank you

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“Her pearled voice quiets a fountain. Even the silence, quiets.”

— Delmira Agustini, from The White Book (1907); “My Sad Muse,” (via poetic–rose)