OMGGG HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARY SHELLEYYYYYYY
"You're 17, what are you going to do with your life?" I'm gonna write poetry in my room, try to get published, kill myself with arsenic, and be worshipped like some kind of Romantic Messiah a hundred years later when a bunch of high and alcoholic teenagers start a cult around me.
Being a teenage writer is like: I can either invent a literary genre or kill myself with arsenic.
An excerpt from the end of a letter where Mary Shelley rejects the advances of her long-time friend Edward Trelawny, 26 July 1831:
"My name will never be Trelawny. I am not so young as I was when you first knew me, but I am as proud. I must have the entire affection, devotion, and, above all, the solicitous protection of any one who would win me. You belong to womenkind in general, and Mary Shelley will never be yours.
I write in haste, but I will write soon again, more at length. You shall have your copies the moment I receive them. Believe me, with all gratitude and affection,
Yours,
M. W. Shelley."
can't leave this gem in the tags @chaewberry
I am equal parts love and enraged madness, beauty and terror, beauty and doom.