Ocean Vuong, Night Sky With Exit Wounds.

might fuck around and only wear tweed, turtlenecks and oxfords, drink worrying amounts of coffee, leave my apartment only to sit in a small cafe and read paperbacks, have a close friendship with underlying homoeroticism,,

foaming at the mouth at the realization that the climax of The Secret History started with Henry "kidnapping" Camilla like the Trojan War started because of Paris "kidnapping" Helen

so unfortunately college isn’t just about performing ancient greek rituals with your friends

anarchism and god complex

cant wait to start feeling normal again I think to myself knowing that i have not once felt normal not at all my whole life not ever

why did we as a society stop putting gargoyles on everything. what fucking loser looked at a building and was like no actually this doesn’t need a horrid little creacher

she lives in the poetry she cannot write

the sun literally sets and casts a golden hue over everything every single day and we fucked it all up and invented paying rent

I am a terrible combination of “whatever happens, happens” and “If everything doesn’t go according to plan, I will vaporize”

~I dance on the glass, we dance in each other's eyes and in the madness I push you away because you recognized the bitterness of my soul.~