“What’s the most romantic thing he’s ever done?”
“Oh God, he’s hopeless. During our first year of marriage, he celebrated our anniversary every single month.”(San Francisco, CA)
I can feel myself cracking in this brown leather sofa. He said he would call, I doubted him. Yet I hoped. The sun is about to set on this day and he has yet to call. I wait with bated breath, one hand clutched onto my heart. I only have strength enough to pry my eyes away from the clock for minutes at a time. When one has passed, I let a breath pass me by. When five has passed, a piece of me was torn away. 1182 minutes have passed and here I am withering away at this brown leather sofa.
you ever arrive someplace only to realize it isn’t there? you find out you’ve been tilting at windmills and chasing mirages.
I have a troubled relationship with the creative classes and the intelligentsia because that’s where I want to be, except that there isn’t a there. you know, who wouldn’t…
“n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, but always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time—which grows back again and again until you develop a more sophisticated interior structure, held up by a strong and flexible spine, built less like a fortress than a cluster of treehouses.”
You will always be too much of something for someone: too big, too loud, too soft, too edgy. If you round out your edges, you lose your edge.
Icona Pop - I Love It
I THREW YOUR SHIT INTO A BAG AND PUSHED IT DOWN THE STAIRS