Teapot tales
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Brown. English literature undergrad Insta: https://www.instagram.com/invites/contact/?igsh=4ipz5g6ia3ze&utm_content=ymd0jnz 💌: https://t.me/HarfChatBot?start=d874c16a90f7
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419
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419
You are, standing in the dark, in a corner of a gloomy forest, sheltering into shadows to run away from what? your own unpure heart? I know....my fury, my rage, my hatered ,burning me inside and watering your worm-like disgusting roots ,they pull you towards me...and you escape, am I conjuring up something in your flithy, little mortal body? ...if I could...I would trample on those worms...I would burn your roots, I would turn your useless body into ashes... You are not Adam, you are that tempting snake....The snake who killed the most innocent part of me...condemning it to death
No
snakes can be usefull
You are your roots...WORM
419
Honestly, on the days when I actually have serious stuff to do and I’m busier, my journal and all that crap end up emptier. Like, I’ve been running around like a dog since morning, and I just opened it now to check my plan and realized I’ve already done almost all of it.
419
دیگه حالم از لپتاپم بهم میخوره وقتایی که میخوام بخوابم با نفرت درشو میبندم
میخوام بشینم باهاش سریال بیینم نه که یه مشت پی دی اف باز کنم بخونم
یا حتی بنویسم!
بس
419
تازه یادم اومد اونموقع که نت نبود ویدئو مسیج میگرفتم برای خودم که هروقت نت وصل شد برم ببینمشون
و تازه کشفشون کردم
419
It was a striking night, yet I never miss it; I just feel every single second of it. It wasn't good, nor was it bad.
It was late.
The sound of bombs exploding nearby.
The sound of people shouting from their windows.
I was cold.
Waiting for my hot chocolate in an empty cafe.
I was forty kilometers away from home.
Was I scared? I don't know.
