*Me after someone I follow inevitably decides to shitpost 200+ reblogs clogging my feed so that I'm forced to miss updates from all the other blogs I follow or scroll endlessly through their garbage until my thumbs fall off.
I’d probably wrack my brain to recite fragments of a Keats - Fanny Brawne letter so you can feel you kicked it in the service of a grand romance only to realize you're about to die never knowing that kind of love so I try to backtrack but not in time
If i was a sickly little peasant boy designated by the aristocracy to carry messages back and forth for pennies and you found me against our citys outer wall with a deep wound in my chest from a musket ball and a letter cluthed in my hand and i told you that my dying wish was to have someone read that letter to me so i would know i died for something important and you open it up and you find a single large illustrated diagram of an onion would you tell me what it was? What would you say?