I am in great spirits for a person who plans to be at the library until probably three in the morning, so massive shout-out of appreciation to whichever hipster it was that brewed my power chai at Coburg Coffee four hours ago.
“Listen, Robert, going to another country isn’t going to make any difference. I’ve tried all that. You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another. There’s nothing to that…If you went there the way you feel now it would be exactly the same. This is a good town. Why don’t you start living your life in Paris?”
- Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
You’re the strongest white woman I know. Besides Pink.
Not sure if if dancing to Hips Don’t Lie in front of my mirror wearing only underwear at age twenty-two will be an incredibly low or incredibly high point when it comes to incorporating the scene into my memoir, but it will probably inspire a great montage in the film adaptation regardless.
Nothing says a quiet Sunday night with your visiting brother quite like being curled up in the foetal position and clawing at your face in a very public local movie theatre with trailer for the One Direction movie dancing on a thirty-foot screen in front of you, just barely in focus through a wall of hot, tortured tears. Ambushed in the real world, so unfair.
I know this isn’t a photo from that night, but like, that night was really just a celebration of teenage dirtbaggery in general, so although I am deviating from the template a little bit here I think it is permissible based on the sheer intensity of the visceral responses I’m experiencing right now, I’d elaborate but I’m mostly a mess of incoherent thoughts and violent emotions. Ugh, god, I just need to get to the point: seven weeks now, I think? Happy seven week anniversary of satan’s 19th birthday night, otherwise known as my personal hell, but in a good way.
One time I was on an Air France flight to Dublin and the pilot was Irish but he spoke over the intercom in French and I’m kinda very sad Niall doesn’t seem to have the same accent that guy had, but at the same time I still want to have stupid conversations with him in French and teach him how to say things in our crude north shore dialect and this is a very strange thing for me to want because in principle I think that I hate speaking French, maybe, I’m not sure, it’s all become very convoluted.
daniellemadeatumblr: My Beloved Monster - Eels she will always be the only thing that comes between me and the awful sting that comes from living in a world that’s so. damn. mean.
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