Things that made me happy today 02.01.2020

Got asked by Dennis to be his wedding witness

Chatted with Tomàs

Chapter 2 of my porn got into Hot

I don’t believe in self-actualization. I want to lie under a blue ceiling that smells and tastes like sea and rock to death to its breath.

“I forgave everybody, I gave up, I got drunk.”

— Jack Kerouac

The second child, Fifine, was said to be like its dead father. Certainly, though the mother had given it her healthy frame, her blue eye and ruddy cheek, not from her was derived its moral being. It was an honest, gleeful little soul: a passionate, warm-tempered, bustling creature it was too, and of the sort likely to blunder often into perils and difficulties. One day it bethought itself to fall from top to bottom of a steep flight of stone steps; and when Madame, hearing the noise (she always heard every noise), issued from the salle-à- manger and picked it up, she said quietly,--"Cet enfant a un os cassé." At first we hoped this was not the case. It was, however, but too true: one little plump arm hung powerless. "Let Meess" (meaning me) "take her," said Madame; "et qu'on aille tout de suite chercher un fiacre." In a fiacre she promptly, but with admirable coolness and self- possession, departed to fetch a surgeon.

Villette 

George's son had done his work so thoroughly that he was considered too good a workman to live, and was, in fact, taken and tragically shot at twelve o'clock that same day—another instance of the untoward fate which so often attends dogs and other philosophers who follow out a train of reasoning to its logical conclusion, and attempt perfectly consistent conduct in a world made up so largely of compromise.

Far from the Madding Crowd

Sometimes I would sit down, open a book on nephology, my fingers tracing along its pages as they do your hairline. Loneliness, you say, is only known to those who savor it in company. Why is it then that your eyes escape mine? Hasn’t the world abandoned us? Aren’t you, I plead with you, the only company with whom I could share the loneliness of a summer storm?

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.

Pride and prejudice

Happy Birthday [Fryecest one-shot]

There’s that familiar bloodthirst throbbing in his veins, that irrepressible, insatiable hunger for more. More danger and chaos and fear and adrenaline, more frenzied heartbeat and dilated pupils and entrancing ecstasy, the temptation of destruction and self-destruction too overpowering for his own existence to make sense. This is what he lives for, he knows that. To play with fire. To kill and to be killed. To annihilate and to perish. 

And she is the only one who can give him that. Because she is the only one craving the same.

AO3 One Thousand and One Words

My mom: don’t u dare

Me: i fucking hate u and your side of family

I rose; I looked back at the bed I had left. Hopeless of the future, I wished but this—that my Maker had that night thought good to require my soul of me while I slept; and that this weary frame, absolved by death from further conflict with fate, had now but to decay quietly, and mingle in peace with the soil of this wilderness. Life, however, was yet in my possession, with all its requirements, and pains, and responsibilities. The burden must be carried; the want provided for; the suffering endured; the responsibility fulfilled. I set out.

Jane Eyre

I see no enemy to a fortunate issue but in the brow; and that brow professes to say,—‘ I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.’

Jane Eyre

Helen Burns asked some slight question about her work of Miss Smith, was chidden for the triviality of the inquiry, returned to her place, and smiled at me as she again went by. What a smile! I remember it now, and I know that it was the effluence of fine intellect, of true courage; it lit up her marked lineaments, her thin face, her sunken grey eye, like a reflection from the aspect of an angel. Yet at that moment Helen Burns wore on her arm “the untidy badge;” scarcely an hour ago I had heard her condemned by Miss Scatcherd to a dinner of bread and water on the morrow because she had blotted an exercise in copying it out. Such is the imperfect nature of man! such spots are there on the disc of the clearest planet; and eyes like Miss Scatcherd’s can only see those minute defects, and are blind to the full brightness of the orb.

Jane Eyre

The family is the cradle of the world’s misinformation. There must be something in family life that generates factual error. Over-closeness, the noise and heat of being. Perhaps something even deeper, like the need to survive. Murray says we are fragile creatures surrounded by a world of hostile facts. Facts threaten our happiness and security. The deeper we delve into the nature of things, the looser our structure may seem to become. The family process works toward sealing off the world. Small errors grow heads, fictions proliferate. I tell Murray that ignorance and confusion can’t possibly be the driving forces behind family solidarity. What an idea, what a subversion. He asks me why the strongest family units exist in the least developed societies. Not to know is a weapon of survival, he says. Magic and superstition become entrenched as the powerful orthodoxy of the clan. The family is strongest where objective reality is most likely to be misinterpreted. What a heartless theory, I say. But Murray insists it’s true.

White noise

Boyfriend: sounds boring then your new job, telling rich people “you can’t be any richer cause it’s too risky”

Me: well you know what there are some things that are better than others and rich people happen to be more likely to provide those better things

Oh Marc of course I’m not judging you and am trying my best to make things easier for you, it’s just you’re being incredibly stupid

I’m almost in tears reading D.H.Lawrence