“On that drive home, I realized that finding something to write about isn’t the point; everything is a poem, it’s just a matter of whether or not people want to hear it.”—Ashley Wylde (via chooseloveoverfear)
“Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life. Translated into words, it’s a cliché, but at the time I felt it not as words but as that knot of air inside me. Until that time, I had understood death as something entirely separate from and independent of life. The hand of death is bound to take us, I had felt, but until the day it reaches out for us, it leaves us alone. This had seemed to me the simple, logical truth. Life is here, death is over there. I am here, not over there. The night Kizuki died, however, I lost the ability to see death (and life) in such simple terms. Death was not the opposite of life. It was already here, within my being, it has always been here, and no struggle would permit me to forget that. When it took the seventeen-year-old Kizuki that night in May, death took me as well. In the midst of life, everything revolved around death.”—Haruki Murakami (via troubled)
“Something’s gotta give,
it may as well be our fingers.
Touch me, ‘til my ribs become piano keys,
‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs
cause i”m breaking old patterns.”—Andrea Gibson (via loveyourchaos)
d. dream house/place to live and why: i would love to live in a tiny little house in johannesburg, south africa, because i love the culture and history of that country and its the epicenter of human rights.
m. virgin or nota: yep
n. favorite plave to shop at: theres this quirky little thrift store right in the center of wicker park. i can never remember the name of it but i like it because its super cheap and the people are interesting
“I miss everyone. I can remember being young and feeling a thing and identifying it as homesickness, and then thinking well now that’s odd, isn’t it, because I was home, all the time. What on earth are we to make of that?”—David Foster Wallace (via tissah)
despite this shitty day, at least i can curl up with a great book and some hot chocolate, and tonight prepare a delicious homecooked meal for myself and finish off the night with some soothing tea and RENT.
Life will perpetuate itself, events will go on happening, spiritual conflicts will be resolved, and I will play no part in them. I have nothing to hope for on either side, moral or physical. For me there is perpetual sorrow and shadow, the night of the soul, and I have no voice to cry out.
Cast your riches far from this numb body, for it is insensible to the seasons of the spirit or the flesh .