i don’t know what’s going on

being in stores that look like this and play this kind of music always makes me hyper-aware of aging and the inevitability of death

Do you ever think about how many of the items now considered priceless artifacts were once commonplace items? The coins we now marvel at from behind the glass at a museum were once tossed around, stepped on, and traded around. The pottery painstakingly pieced back together was somebody’s favorite wine jug. The decorative pin now rusted and bent once held together the shoulder of someone’s chiton. History is simply a trail of ordinary people going about their day, and I think there’s an odd sort of beauty in that.

so excited for lorde to tell me who i am now

I open tumblr, I press my stupid little reblog button 20x, I disappear.

(climbing through your bedroom window at night) oh don’t worry i’m vaccinated. why are you screaming

do i believe in romance…not sure. am i obsessed with it…absolutely

idk about soulmates but those people who eat parts of the food or candy that you don't like and you do the same for them.....we've lived a hundred lifetimes together probably

angry girl music is so important to the world everyone say thank you to angry girls for making music where would we be without them

“I wish my favorite characters would go to therapy 😭 😭 😭” well I don’t! I’m having fun. I hope they kill even more people

oh the heartbreak of a small, gay, and friendless middle schooler on a road trip, who can devour 500 page novels in single sittings, faced with the cruelty and callousness of a universe where reading in a moving vehicle will give you motion sickness

the number of times i think about the full body viking skeleton i saw in the museum is ridiculous like when i say it haunts me i mean it actually haunts me

every time i remember the questions are endless — what was his name? what did his mother call him? what sounds did he wake up to? what sounds did he die to? how old was he when he died? how old when he fell in love? how old when he first fell out? who cried with him and laughed with him? who cried for him? how many miles of separation can i draw between my ancestors and him? was he kind, serious, jokey? was he sombre or impulsive? was he chatty and good-humoured or a cantankerous asshole? like…i have never stopped thinking about this.

I got this feeling when I saw some petroglyphs on the side of a cliff like.. a human made those. That human felt all of the emotions I feel they went through the same universal human experience and they each had vivid internal lives and memories. Wild.

ok this is next level and i honestly…i honestly can’t

during my prehistory module we got given Roman pottery and roofing slabs that had thumb prints in the handles and I put my thumb over those thumb marks and cried in the middle of the tutorial 

I do pottery, and it’s one of my favorite things about the medium: that you can often see the shape of someone’s fingers in the surface. I love it when someone just shoves a finger somewhere while throwing, and leaves it there as a place for YOU to put your finger. Little thumbrests on top of mug handles is a fave. “How did you make those ridges like that on the outside? How did you make that spiral on the bottom?” “With my fingers.”

That moment when History becomes People.