“She’s a predator posing as a house pet.”
—Fight Club
May 2011
63 posts
“Who were you after you were mine?”
—
“Sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed.”
—Friedrich Nietzsche (via kari-shma)
“A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.”
—Jack Kerouac (On the Road) via myquotelibrary (via quote-book)
Gimme Sympathy
Metric
Get hot, get too close to the flame
Wild, open space
Talk like an open book
Sign me up
Got no time to take a picture
I’ll remember someday all the chances we took
We’re so close to something better left unknown
We’re so close to something better left unknown
I can feel it in my bones
Gimme sympathy
After all of this is gone
Who’d you rather be?
The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?
Oh, seriously
You’re gonna make mistakes, you’re young
Come on, baby, play me a song
Like, “Here Comes the Sun”
Come on, baby, play me a song
Like, “Here Comes the Sun”
Don’t go, stay with the all-unknown
Stay away from the hooks
All the chances we took
We’re so close to something better left unknown
We’re so close to something better left unknown
Play
“Let go.”
—
Once a week, or at least once every two weeks, I dream of my dad dying.
My mom’s always there. And my dad is sick. And we wait for him to die.
And then he dies. We watch him die. And we’re sad, but we shuffle on.
I hate these dreams. I know it stems from the fears I have, but I just cannot handle them. I’ve had them for the past few years.
Are they trying to tell me I’ll be okay when he’s gone?
That I worry too much?
That he’s going to die in the next few years because of his age?
Or just my brain relaying what I fear the most?
Whatever it is, I don’t want to dream of him dying anymore.
“because I have no right to read her love poems.
because I’ve forgotten the geography of a woman’s shoulder, how hard
and brittle in places, how supple and stemlike in others.
because my desire alone isn’t enough for both of us.
because if I showed her the stars at night, she might see them as
nothing but light cracking through a frail wall, and I’d have no words to
comfort her.” —Andy Weaver, from “The Constant of the Universe” (via yesyes)
because I’ve forgotten the geography of a woman’s shoulder, how hard
and brittle in places, how supple and stemlike in others.
because my desire alone isn’t enough for both of us.
because if I showed her the stars at night, she might see them as
nothing but light cracking through a frail wall, and I’d have no words to
comfort her.” —Andy Weaver, from “The Constant of the Universe” (via yesyes)
