"It's like when you're somewhere, but you're not really somewhere. Like when you're tired and you can't concentrate, and you're sitting some exam at school and you keep misspelling things and leaving out words. Or like when you read and you can't focus on the word, and you have to keep reading the sentence, but you can't concentrate and you're reading the words but you can't remember them and then you start to get freaked out. Yeah. That's what it's like for me, but all the time. It's not some momentary thing where the next minute i can concentrate. It's just always like that. And I'm always feeling and I'm sick of feeling. I feel like I've gone mad because all I do is think and I think so loud that I'm so tired. I just want to stop fucking thinking. I don't know why I'm like this again. I just want to stop thinking. You have no idea how much."
"I want to hold your face in my hands, tell you everything will be alright. I want to trace your cheekbones and your strong chin and tell you it will be worth the fight. You will look into my eyes and the sadness will seep through. But you won't say anything, you won't have to. I'll wash you up, put steak on your black eyes and then you'll look at me with surprise. Why this sudden gentleness? Is it because I feel bad that you're a mess? I want to destroy my heart and start a new one in its place; mine feels marred at the sight of your face. My feelings run deep but I'm not obliged to share, you never do, so it doesn't seem fair. I guess the looks in your eyes is enough, but to go without words seems kind of tough. You're currently trying your hardest with your ruined mouth but your mumbles are dripping south."
i took his hand, and closed my eyes. i felt with my toes for the right spots to walk, and then i felt with my heart when it was safe to run. i ran into eternity, into the end of time and space, and i ran into every beginning and every end. we were nowhere, yet i was running into every inch of every thing and every where. i was on top of the world, yet there was no world. not really. it was my world. i opened my eyes, and dropped his hand quickly. i noticed the bright red dancing upon his cheeks, and his freckles. his freckles... 'i want to take a pen and connect the dots to make a constellation.'
you know, there's a place we all inhabit, but we don't much think about it, we're scarcely conscious of it, and it lasts for less than a minute a day. it's in the morning, for most of us. it's that time, those few seconds when we're coming out of sleep but we're not totally awake yet. for those few seconds we're something more primitive than what we are about to become. we have just slept the sleep of our most distant ancestors, and something of them and their world still clings to us. for those few moments, we are unformed, uncivilized. we are not the people we know as ourselves, but creatures more in tune with a tree than a keyboard. we are untitled, unnamed, natural, suspended between was and will be, the tadpole before the frog, the worm before the butterfly. we are, for a few brief moments, anything and everything we could be. and then...we open our eyes and the day is before us and...we become ourselves.
"don't you see it? that's what proves me right. i care the most, because if i can do it -if leaving is the right thing to do, then i'll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe."
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them and then you start to get freaked out. Yeah. That's what it's like for me, but all the time. It's not some momentary thing where the next minute i can concentrate. It's just always like that. And I'm always feeling and I'm sick of feeling. I feel like I've gone mad because all I do is think and I think so loud that I'm so tired. I just want to stop fucking thinking. I don't know why I'm like this again. I just want to stop thinking. You have no idea how much."
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'i want to take a pen and connect the dots to make a constellation.'
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