I write. I observe. I indulge in all things creative.You'll never know unless you ask....
there are some nights that I cannot sleep. I toss. I turn. I twist and I cry. I don’t know why? I don’t know how this burn in my chest still exists. I don’t know why I feel compelled to let these words out, but i fear if I don’t then it’ll just crawl into my veins until it completely takes over my soul.
I was remembering when you used to make me egg sandwiches at 3am when we were drunk and telling stories of how our evening came to an end. You always made my bacon so crispy. We used to giggle like we were kids at a sleep over telling our stories til dawn.
i miss that when life is eating me alive and i feel i can’t breathe, you were always there to tell me things would be better and then you would do this absolutely ridiculous dance that would be make me laugh. I feel like you were the only one who ever got me. it was as though we shared this invisible ribbon. I never felt alone even when you were gone. I never felt as disconnected as I do now. I don’t share that bond with anyone and I fear ours has to end.
I feel so foolish to think that I can replicate any part of this life. All I seem to be replicating is this emptiness I feel. sometimes I roll over and I just wish i could see your face again, hear your voice. Now when I see you I just wanna scream and ask you how this all happened. You are this visceral memory of a life I once had and now I find myself in the same place I was before it all happened. Broke, alone, and unbound.
should i be over this? should i hate you? should i still love you? i dunno. i just miss those 3am egg sandwiches and the laughter we had before holding each other to sleep. We still woke up with headaches and “never drinking again” testimonies, yet the whole time we were getting there, it was worth all the pain.
"He struggled to bring his head to her eyes and in between that space was all the history they created. The wars. The death. The creations. The triumphs. The love. The end. Her long thick black hair fell right above her elbow and she followed the scar on his left cheek down to the lips that once kissed her with the expanse of the universe and she wondered if he would meet her there again…"
- Miss Lonelyhearts - Nathaniel West
- Catcher in the Rye - Salinger
- An Interview with a Vampire - Anne Rice
- Selected Poems - e.e. cummings
- Good Omens - Neil Gaiman
- Taming of the Shrew - Shakespeare
- Passage to India - E.M. Forster
- An Ideal Husband - Oscar Wilde
- Finnegan’s Wake - James Joyce
- Dangerous Liasons - Pierre Choderlos de Laclos
Emma - Jane Austen
The Important of Being Ernest - Oscar Wilde
A Room with A View - E.M. Forster
I often wonder how is it that so many people have thick walls around them. How is it that they can turn whatever emotions on and off like my bedroom light switch. How I can feel everything around me, and welcome it, despite the pain or the sadness….I still want to feel. Where I’m pouring out truth, others are hiding in their shadows. Why be so dead? Without all this agony we cannot know true happiness.