Lily Rose Depp - Blog Posts

feminine urge to ride in the darkness towards the vampire's castle

𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊…

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This movie has POSSESSED me I cannot think of anything else. Genuinely the best film I’ve watched all year.

am i more productive at nighttime or am i so choked with responsibility and duty during the day that my free time is now only ever available to me when in exchange for a sacrifice of tomorrow's wellbeing? (because apparently revenge nighttime procrastination is an actual thing??)

tehe i made a little uquiz you should take it tehehehe

"self-care," i whisper to myself for the fifth that day as i create a new pinterest board to save my silly little pictures to instead of acknowledging the ever-growing pile of revision looming on my consciousness

hot girls be like 'my comfort characters 🤗💐💕' then name the most deranged and psychopathic dredges of humanity who have never felt an ounce of comfort in their life

chaotic academia is learning latin on duolingo

if i had a penny for every fictional hedonist called henry that is possibly probably gay for their best friend and ruined their lives/the lives of others 'for the aesthetic' i would have three pennies, which isn't much, but it's weird that it's happened thrice

i was born in the wrong era. i was supposed to live in the 80s. the 1880s. i was destined to be some rich, idle, ill-fated protagonist of a victorian gothic novel and smoke cigarettes and wear rich fabrics and carry a cane with a carved top and write long, rambling letters in an illegible font to some close friend i may or may not be utterly infatued by and drink red wine at lavish dinners every other night and discuss philosophy and hedonism and sprawl dramatically across chaise longues and and-

i'll always be forever sad that 'awesome' has become so warped in context in comparison to what it originally meant. awe-some, to invoke awe. like?????? i want to be able to use it without sounding like some skater boy from an early 2000's sitcom

i find it so charming that so many ancient civilisations - if not most of them - believed in gods of some sort. like, the world was so inexplicably incredible that, to them, it could be the work of nothing but the divine.

i would love to be able to see the moon through the eyes of some human from thousands of years ago. like, a magic silver orb in the sky that changed shape and colour and moved?? the world must be so much more beautiful when viewed with no context.

the 'having a fun little daydream world as a child' to "i rely so much upon escapism to escape from the monotony of life that days seem to pass too quickly and sometimes i don't feel real" pipeline

me: finds intelligence hot

also me: unconditionally and furiously despises anyone who is even slightly better than me at anything

look all i'm asking for is forehead kisses and academic validation and autumn and museum dates and cold bedsheets and misty mornings and baggy sweaters okay???????

just got nettle stings all over my legs from running through a forest at dusk because i was spooked by an owl that is so manic pixie dream girl of me

lost is a lovely place to find yourself

- micheal faudet

hot girls don't know their lefts and rights

i miss autumn. i miss short days and long nights. i miss the stars. i miss chunky scarves and knitted beanies and thick sweaters. i miss withered orange leaves underfoot. i miss lukewarm rain. i miss cold winds that smell of nature and death. i miss spending grey days reading classics by candle light. i miss herbal teas and bitter coffee. i miss the sting of ice in my fingers. i miss the harsh softness as the world slowly settles down and gets ready to die.

running away to some dilapidated georgian mansion in the moors to persure my writing career and slowly but surely gain a reputation in the nearby village as a potential witch, anyone wanna come?

why do i have to work. like why can't i live in a quaint cottage in the english moors with weather-worn bricks smothered in ivy and bake soft loaves of bread and gooseberry pies and wear bonnets and floaty blouses and carry a little wicker basket in the crook of my elbow and go blackberry picking in autumn and paddle ankle-deep in pebble-strewn streams and-

inside you are two wolves. one is diet coke heart-shaped sunglasses vintage diners red nail polish lollipops soft ice-cream knee-high socks lipstick stains girl blogger. the other is black coffee rainy weather turtlenecks secret history notes app poetry hand-held vhs camera autumn cable-knit sweaters tote bag thrift stores chunky rings.

it's just me and my overly intricate daydream plot against the world

beauty is rarely soft or consolatory.

quite the contrary. genuine beauty is always quite alarming.

- the secret history, donna tart

sometimes i wanna be red nails and cigarettes and cat-eye sunglasses, but then again i wanna be lipgloss and rose petals and lace, but at the same time i also like baggy sweaters and second-hand book stores and polaroids, but then i think about long scarves and fog and well-worn books, but then i see fingerless gloves and bruised knees and tangled jewellery, but also what about messy braids and daisy chains and knee-high grass, but then-

ink-stained fingers, crumpled sheets of unfinished poetry, withered roses, lipstick on the rim of a coffee cup, dark chocolate, forgotten gods, starless nights, red candles, bloody knees, ribbons in hair

feeling a little goofy, might take part in an ancient ritual in the middle of a forest with a group of insufferable greek students and accidentally kill a farmer whilst in a state of pure enlightenment, idk

thunderstorms in summer, freckles, flowers pressed between the pages of a book, lemonade, daisy chains, bare feet on dewy grass, blackberry juice on lips and fingers, messy braids, stargazing, collecting pretty rocks from streams, late night birdsong, flowers tucked behind ears, daydreaming