tough luck.
Tag: minimal
for a thousand more.
When you proposed you didn’t have a ring, and it was not pancakes, it was egg. It was not fairytale-like or slow paced romantic. It was late morning and you smelled like penicillin. Your hair was crazy curls and you hadn’t shaved for like a week. You blurted, “what if you changed your name into Mrs.C.” I was stunned, offended, my egg burnt. I said you can’t say things like that, smelling like that, looking like that. First take a shower, get a ring, and ask on bended knee. You said nonchalantly: my knees hurt.
perhaps.
(anymore).
there’s no point (anymore) chasing the closure you want . the closure you deserve is never going to happen. there will be no better endings, they just are.
the truth is.
no one.
no one knows how to tell other people that they’re exhausted.
people who do this.
where guilt is alive.
When you are living in a house where guilt is alive, it leaves a mark.
And when you are living in an atmosphere of daily, ever-present guilt, what does that do to children? It changes their souls.
Molly Shannon
like morning.
i think a lot about your eyes
…and how painful it is to be
in a room full of people with such
empty pockets and words that are
so heavy i cannot lift them from
the fog.
you are the greatest secret
if i could i would hold you between
my hands like morning.
science.
no one agrees.
no one agrees but she’s me in my wedding dress
no one agrees but we both know she looks like me
no one should know but we both know the truth
resurrection.
ingenuity.
if we are the same person before and after we loved, it means we haven’t loved enough.
Elif Shafak
too soft.
i have too much to keep
too little to share
too vague to make clear
too soft for a love like yours
white noise.
i speak rain.
i speak rain,
i spin you a night and you hide in it.
Margaret Atwood
i know.
the orange
goo(d).
i’d like to believe that people are essentially (and substantially) good.
francis.
maia diaries 