"What Do I Want? I Want You To Talk About Normal Things. No I Don't. I Want You To Look Me In The Eye

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."

-Oscar Wilde

one of my favourite things in the entire world is when there’s a huge thunderstorm outside and it’s raining heavily and you’re in bed swathed in blankets and you have just never felt warmer and safer than you do in that moment

"How many times did I die without noticing?"

~Mahmoud Darwish

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the only person that understands me is richard siken

i am afraid if i vanish no one will remember my smell. who will know my favorite candle, who will bury themselves in vanilla in a scent of grief. i am afraid in ten, twenty, 50 years time, i will have not been. who was i, who are we to be so easily forgotten

There are 5 types of fear

1. Terror 2. Panic 3. 14 missed calls from mom 4. Username or password is incorrect 5. “We need to talk”

“[A]nd I think of what Hobie said: beauty alters the grain of reality. And I keep thinking too of the more conventional wisdom: namely, that the pursuit of beauty is a trap, a fast track to bitterness and sorrow, that beauty has to be wedded to something more meaningful.”

— Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Longing is the absent chatting with the absent. The distant turning towards the distant. Longing is the spring’s thirst for the jar-carrying women and vice versa. Longing allows distance to recede, as if looking forward, although it may be called hope, were an adventure and a poetic notion. The present tense is hesitant and perplexed, the past tense hangs from a Cypress tree standing on its rooted leg behind a hill, enveloped in its dark green, listening intently to one sound only : the sound of the wind. Longing is the sound of the wind.

—Mahmoud Darwish, from “XIV”, In the Presence of Absence. Archipelago, 2011