Dear Moffat,
Your season finale of Doctor Who is disappointing. It makes me want to be River Song again for Halloween.
Love,
The chick who may have fallen out of love with Doctor Who
Dear Moffat,
Your season finale of Doctor Who is disappointing. It makes me want to be River Song again for Halloween.
Love,
The chick who may have fallen out of love with Doctor Who
Show me affection
like the hug of loose covers
and the smell of books.
I just bought a pandebono for 90 cents. I forgot that there was a price increment under a dollar.
Dear Guy Napping Against Me On The Q,
I know we’re supposed to shy away from strangers and be revolted by the possibility of forming a connection with those we sit next to, but didn’t necessarily know when we first entered the trian. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you upright and wake you before I leave so you don’t fall over. We all just need a little support now and again.
Love,
The chick with the basil
Dust covered fingers
touch wine glasses after work.
Hearts filled with paper.
Today I changed trains earlier than I had to (and possibly went out of my way) so I could be above ground over the bridge because the sunrise makes me happy.
Dear Guy Playing Music Off His Phone Without Using Headphones,
Do you realize how badly I want to smack you with my book? Your phone is next to my head. I’m tired. I’m cranky. I had a long day. Turn your stupid noise off or invest in headphones. Or give me fifty dollars.
Love,
The chick who has decided to just stare at you whenever you make noise
PS: Now you’re crushing your plastic bottle next to my ear. I hate you. Also, your hair is stupid.
Move me into love
with words of Byron and Shelley.
Lust for libraries.