December 2011
4 posts
November 2011
8 posts
Soft.
conceptualnudity:
I know that I would rather be unbearably sensitive for the rest of my life than unforgivably callous for even just a moment. I would rather spend my days loving too much than not loving at all. I would rather my heart be a home, not a hotel.
Are we like major or minor anyway?
Wearing ponchos, drinking crunchy russians (soy milk + rum) and doing calligraphy with Tom on our living room floor. I have two papers to write before midnight, a room to completely gut, and a pile of clothes to shove into a suitcase, but this week has been far too melancholy; far too full of both ambiguity and appreciation not to step back and watch these strange and wonderful moments from...
October 2011
1 post
August 2011
1 post
6 tags
June 2011
4 posts
May 2011
35 posts
Liking is for Cowards. Go for What Hurts. →
Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go around looking for it,...
– Kurt Vonnegut
He dug so deeply into her sentiments that in search of interest he found love,...
– Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
Currently reading this book. So. Beautiful.
The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let things upset...
– Lost in Translation
1 tag
Yeah, I mean, I’ve heard she’s mad chill.”
“She is. I...
– Thanks, best friend.
post-slope
The idea of letting a good thing go bad is so tempting at times, so sickening at times, but somehow we all have to learn to preserve. I’ve been waiting for years, then two years, to feel like this again, to love like this again. These moments are so perfect, so pristine, that I’m afraid to touch them. But by no choice of my own, we all must keep moving forward.