Am I still obsessed with Harry Potter? Still cracking magic jokes. All the time. Can’t get over the fact I’m not a wizard…
via peeves.tumblr
… or a vampire.
I guess I’m not talented enough to be magical. The long-hair-phase didn’t get me closer to witch, princess, or sorceress either.
Damn.
Darling Reader:
take the tired spectacles of the day off and mind the giant flying bats. The entire nervous system is shot with the dead skin of errands, worries, those moments of hesitation where a flash of yearning hits you like a piano that falls to crush your bones into the sidewalk (where a puddle of blood is not as romantic as it sounds; instead, you’re left wallowing in a crusty burnt sienna). Do not think, it will distract you like flecks of spit on the screen. Feel the air and its electricity, the dry or wet pulsing on the minute surface of your skin, and dream about the skies in Africa, the taste of an iceberg, ice cream on the tip of your tongue, and that smile… that smile that breaks you better than that piano, because the deluge of possibilities slaps you silly until it’s impossible to be distracted; the flecks of spit don’t bother you anymore. You see through them and the rest, and realize that the only one dreaming your dreams and seeing what you see is yourself. The dream of that smile is broken (once you know it’s your own, impossible hope), and you’re left with these strange giant flying bats that are anchored into your heart and circling around your head. If you’re not careful, the wiry strings will twist and choke you…
And to you, I want to tell you so much but I can’t. Read my mind. Or speculate away.
Graceee
Harry Clarke via butdoesitfloat.com