I’ve discovered the hardest relationships to mourn are the ones that never happened. Because instead of lying awake at 3:00 a.m. wearing out every memory that features your smile, I’m sitting on the bathroom with my eyes screwed shut trying to picture what being in your arms might’ve felt like, because I never even got to know that much. And we all know imagination surpasses reality.
My sister has a theory, that when you get a song stuck in your head, it’s because you don’t know it all the way through. It keeps replaying because it cannot end. Maybe we keep coming back to each other because we don’t know how we end, so we can’t let go. What if we decided to find our ending. What if we played us out all the way?
Mt // or maybe we’re just bad, looping mall muzak
Anonymous asked: “Any advice for the crippling self-doubt with writing? I do short stories and I never think they’re good enough.”
Get ready for probably one of the worst pep-talks ever written. The first time I heard someone say (and not to me actually), “No one asked you to be a writer,” was probably the first time I realized I didn’t actually have to write.
I know you are afraid. I’m fucking terrified too. I don’t want to get hurt again. I know you don’t either. I’m terrified to be broken into a million pieces, but I don’t want to run away. I want to run towards you at a hundred miles per hour. There’s something about you that makes me want to risk the unbearable. I want to trust you with the billions of neurons keeping my body together. I want you to delve into the inner thoughts of my conscious and peer into my secret desires. I want to scream your name in anger, ecstasy, lust. I want 1 + 1 = 1. I want to love you unconditionally. I want to make the whole completely wholesome.
Trust me. Trust us. Let’s jump into the deep end together.
He does this thing with people he loves. The way he lets you in, just a little bit at a time, and you don’t even really notice it until suddenly you know everything about him, every scar on his body and mind. It stops being a question of whether or not you’d follow him off a cliff and it becomes just a fact of life, that you’d hold his hand on the way down. All of a sudden, you’re a part of him, like another limb, and you don’t think to question it until you realize that you treat him the same way, like he’s your heart and your lungs and your blood would freeze in your veins without him. You stop being two distinct beings with two separate minds. You’re still different people, but it stops being a ‘you-and-him’ and it becomes a 'we’. And then he’s gone, and you’ve heard of phantom limbs, when amputees feel agonizing pain in limbs that aren’t there anymore, and maybe that’s what this is, but you’re walking around like a zombie and you can’t think and you can’t even fucking breathe, because he isn’t here and you’ve forgotten how to live without him.
There are certain moments in life that make you feel more alive than anything else in the world. Sunsets. Sunrises after you’ve been up all night. First kisses. When you hear a new song for the first time and know that it will be one of your favorites. Waking up on a weekend with nothing to do but be happy. Dancing for the fun of it, alone in your room, knowing that no one can see you and no one can judge you.