hopelessly romantic

sometimes i think about how constellations are an entirely man-made construct and don’t actually exhist inherently in nature. i mean, the universe just gave us stars, and we saw art and myths and stories in them. the capacity that humans have for seeing purpose in the incidental makes me realize just how lonely we are on this planet, desperately searching for meaning elsewhere in the universe.

invite me to your discord server so i can immediately become overwhelmed, mute it, and never interact with any of you ever again

i am once again fighting the urge to fake my own death, move to a small city, and open a little bakery/bookshop where people can escape from the harsh reality.

dear god the inherent romanticism of being alive on this fresh morning in this broken world

fuck all billionaires who earned their money through shady means...except you, mr. jay gatsby, you just keep bootlegging and yearning for that green light

whatever [falls in gay pirate love with you]