On her face is a map of the world

Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I don’t like it when people try to get into my business. Especially if it’s someone on the internet. I don’t like that one bit.

Is is possible to be attracted to someone’s personality, and not be physically attracted to them.　

I know that no matter what you end up doing in life, you’ll be brilliant at it. You have a gift love. You just have to find out how to use it.

Ah darling, I feel like I’ve bothered you with these thoughts too often, and I am so very sorry for that.

But every time we do talk about this, you always say the same thing, and it never fails to make me just a bit happier. Thank you for that.

Sometimes I think I’ll be okay not doing sciences.

But sometimes, I can’t picture myself doing anything else. And that scares me. Because what do I do it I don’t make it through this year?

Find a way to get past it? I suppose, but I put things in perspective by thinking “Will this matter in a year?” Yes. Yes, it will because this decides what I do with my life. This will matter fifty years from now, because it makes the difference between going into scientific research, or going into something else.

I know it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re happy, but will I be happy doing sciences? Will I be happy not doing sciences? Am I willing to fight for this?

theunsluttyalleycat asked: Random suggestion: something about temptation

We sat in a field of grass, staring at the ducks swimming in the river. He had blood in his veins, blood in his mouth, as I listened to him talk about his favourite serial killers. He had no originality, with Jack the Ripper being his number one. But then again, neither did I, with Charles Manson being mine.

I studied the scars on his knuckles, and I wanted to take him home. I had a black eye, and I still wanted to take him home. Instead, we continued to sit in the grass and talk about devils. I wanted him even more.

I’m going on a mini-hiatus again.

For some reason, tumblr didn’t show me I had new messages, so I didn’t see any of your prompts.

I promise, promise, promise I’ll get back to them when I get back next week.

Until then, have a great week!

A dirty love letter, if you please.

I’m remembering that one time; post cries of ecstasy and curled toes. We lay in the sheets, openly naked and tangled in each other, you wrapped around me like a question mark sitting at the bottom of my spine.

You gave me a smile as you lit the cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. I inhaled it from your lungs and swallowed it from your mouth with a kiss. Fingers trailed down my stomach and settled on the curve of my hip, moulding themselves there with a laugh.

Shivers ran underneath our skin, like train tracks, marking a destiny, a destination, no, a journey.

We lay in bed for hours. Do you remember that? Do you remember me?