I am the people in the other cars, each with his or her own story but passing by too quickly to notice or understand
Dead is dead. For whatever reason. And in choice between life and death, there is no other choice.
Time can be buoyed by wordlessness, but it needs to be anchored in words.
There are friends, but they are people to spend time with, not people to share time with.
Singing in the rain. I’m singing in the rain. And it’s such a fucking glorious feeling. An unexpected downpour and I am just giving myself into it. Because what the fuck else can you do? Run for cover? Shriek and curse? No–when the rain falls you just let it fall and you grin like a madman and you dance with it because if you can make yourself happy in the rain, then you’re doing pretty alright in life.
What an idiot Santa is for flying around alone. Because who would want to travel the world without another person’s heartbeat beside him?
As we become the distant past, you become a future few of us would have imagined.
That day, that moment, opened a curiosity of bodies,
shaped us as irrevocably as our first kiss, our first realizations. You go into that moment never really knowing
if the closeness will wear well, if it is something that should
happen. I know she wasn’t sure of me, and I wasn’t sure of me, either. But we discovered something in the unspoken,
found care in our caring whispers, instinctive.
The clock always ticks. There are times you don’t hear it, and there are times that you do.
There were so many other people in my life.
I had spent all of my time listening,
learning the longings we all have in common.
I never took the time to hear them in myself
and I heard them speaking to him.
The desire for desire, that hope
for hope, the possibility of everything
truly possible. I had so many friends,
so many nods and conversations,
so many things I’d always wanted
to say to someone.