WAIT. Not to be controversial but. What if I just enjoy life for what it is right now instead of stressing about what I’ve yet to get out of it. What if I choose to enjoy this time……I know that once it goes, I won’t get it back from anywhere

Love the centuries long female literary tradition of writing men who fall for women who hate their guts.

I love that women like Jane Austen and Elizabeth Gaskell were out there in 1810 or 1855 unapologetically creating shippable couples and excruciating tension and swoonworthy moments in the most delicious slow-burn love stories. Like they were obviously drawing on their own desires to be able to hit the spot, to know what women want, and were writing to afford themselves and others a vicarious experience of love in a society that was probably pretty devoid of it. And here I am 200 years later, also a wistful romantic woman who needs escapism, still in agreement about what love should look like, and their otp is now my otp.