from Simone Weil’s Pre-War Notebook
When I say I'm Henry Winter, I don't mean that I'm a murderer or a villain. I mean that I isolate myself by not answering the door sometimes, even when I'm home.
Moon, night, stars, chilly breeze, incoming dark clouds. Introspection, solitude, nostalgia, melancholy. Unsent love letters, writing in journals, dead roses. Cold coffee, cold hands, chess games. Latin phrases, French compliments, obscure books. Fyodor Dostoevsky, Donna Tartt, Sylvia Plath, William Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde. Chase Atlantic, The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey, The Neighbourhood, PLAZA. Formula 1, Ferrari team, Carlos Sainz, Max Verstappen. Sapiosexuality, pretentious lovers, dark-haired boys, hazel eyes.
Mes amours... 🥀
And the world is going to burn down today at sunset and tomorrow the world would be alight with joy.
The storm has come and gone and its revisit isn't due yet.
Simone de Beauvoir, from Diary of a Philosophy Student: Volume 1, 1926-27
Text ID: I observe how much I have matured since last year despite my belief that I was losing myself, how something strong was born from the painful experiences survived and from the numerous minutes that I believed were wasted.
When the academic validation gets so bad that you cry over a 95
𝔩𝔢𝔱’𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔡𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔯𝔶 🪶
Rather melodramatic, aren't you? Cubitum Eamus? fifteen●intp●studyblr
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