i cried for the first time in four months. i hate emotion. unlike most, i’m only emotional when the people i love are there. because they’re the only ones that can remind me it’s okay to be me, to feel everything i feel and it will matter, but we can move on too.
and because they will hug me. hugs, darling, will fix anything. it’s a moment of being connected to one other soul, another body, and for a minute you’re convinced we aren’t totally alone. and that’s all we need.
and suddenly you’re looming, over that great beyond with nothing, because you’re free and you’re lost, the echoing sounds that you had as your last touch-base falling silent. and then you’re there, you’re here, you’re you and you always were and no one was ever beside you but they’re all right there in your heart and that’s the only goddamn place they needed to be, everyone’s a phony in retrospect so just idolize the parts of them you knew really well or just fucking made up, but they touched your hand and were human just like you. and then you realize you aren’t you, you’re no one, and thank fucking god because you are god and that’s all it ever could have been.
i let go of the loss of serenity.
i love to write, but i hate to reread. because you never get it write, no matter how much you want to. it sounds so perfect in that moment you wrote it, all wrapped up in the meaning…and then you go back later and it’s like a flower that fell flat. the disappointment, it’s downcasting.
but i hear the rain now, as if i should try again. well alright, i’ll have a little faith, just one more time.
today we alternated as vladimir and estragon and we talked about roller coasters. i wondered who we’d be if things hadn’t changed, and as i looked across the room at a lonely figure i wondered if i would have to draw lines in the sand.
but my lines never turn out straight and i always end up erasing them ten minutes later anyways.
stop living in fear, my dear, we can’t wait forever.
remember, remember, the cold in december
i like the way you hold my hand
and how you kiss my forehead
the best part is when you look me in the eyes for five straight seconds, with that smile
that’s my forever
i really don’t need anything else
OH MY GOD THAT SPELLS SAD!!!” —elena and nena, back in 2007. yes, i remember how it all began
So there was this woman and she was, uh, on an airplane and she’s flying to meet her fiancé sailing high above the—the largest ocean on planet earth and she was seated next to this man who, you know she had tried to start conversations an really—really the only thing she heard him say was to order his bloody mary and she’s sitting there and she’s reading this really arduous magazine article about a third world country that she couldn’t even pronounce the—the name of and she’s feeling very bored and very despondent and—and then, uh, suddenly there’s this huge mechanical failure and one of the—the engines gave out and they started just falling -an- thirty thousand feet and the pilot’s on the microphone and he’s saying,
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Oh My God, I’m Sorry”
and apologizing and she looks at the man and she—and she says,
“Where are we going?”
and he looks at her and he says,
“We’re going to a party, it—it’s a birthday party.
It’s your birthday party, happy birthday darling.
We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much.”
And then, uh, he starts humming this little tune and—and, uh, it kind of goes like this, it’s kinda: One, Two, One, Two, Three, Four
Alissa was here
sometimes, my hair is really messy, and that’s because i don’t fix my hair throughout the day and there is a thing called wind. sometimes i laugh weird and fall over myself; when people scare the shit out of me i do scream. i also get shaken when people die, and i turn up my headphones really loud. i’m not super artsy or indie or anything really; i just like to be me, and that doesn’t fall under a perfect stereotype. i listen to everything from techno to taylor swift, it all depends on my moods. which i have. i also give a shit about things and try to fight for what i love, because once upon a time someone told me i don’t fight for what i want. but maybe i fight in my own way. i live in the yearbook room and i get irritated over picas and condensed font rather than if you looked at me today. i love strongly, i feel love and i feel all these things and it makes me human. i never want to be emotionless, but that doesn’t mean i don’t believe in detachment and renunciation. i just don’t see it how you do. i’m sorry if i care too much, but i’d rather lose because i tried too hard than didn’t try at all.