- Haruki Murakami (via flowst)
- Ralph Smart (via qoldlush)
i don’t know what to tell you
other than the fact that a giraffe’s
heart weighs 22 pounds and that
somebody once told me when
flies fall in love, their entire brain
is rewired to only know loving each
other. when one of them dies, their
memory becomes blank. i hope you
never think about anything as much
as i think about waking up next to
you during a windstorm at 5 am.
2014 and my mind is a mess: “Write. Write until it stops hurting” someone said but my notebooks are filled. Losing touch with reality. Run and hidden where I know I can’t be found, but I couldn’t leave my mind behind its here, talking to me even in my sleep; I can’t sleep. What’s fucking wrong. It’s new year they say, new you, they say. But I can’t see. This has never happened to me. I can’t fucking see. It’s black. But I can’t do this, its me - 20; so much ahead. This course is what I love and he loves me like crazy, so, why am I here? This silent room, this silent house; silent street. The memorial looms in on me like a monster, but the streets offer solace so do I find it, the monster beyond or do I stay here listening to the monster of my mind?
"We are nothing" "Tomorrow we may die" "We are nothing" "You and me" Since beginning-less time and into the never-ending future, men have loved women without telling them, and the Lord has loved them without telling, and the void is not the void because there’s nothing to be empty of.
Jack Kerouac - Tristessa