I don’t know how these things died without benefit of a bullet to the brain pan. They seemed to exist in an eternal twilight of longing.
Someone once told me that we move when it becomes less painful than staying where we are”.
You Don’t Have To Be A Crook To Be Successful!
Writing a novel is agony.
They all dreamt of each other that night, as was natural, considering how thin the partitions were between them, and how strangely they had been lifted off the earth to sit next each other in mid-ocean, and see every detail of each others’ faces, and hear whatever they chanced to say.
The sound of him drinking was indescribable-like dirty runoff down a storm drain.
Semua orang paham jika masing-masing membutuhkan rumah untuk pulang. Kita semua butuh rehat. Kita butuh berlindung dari dinginnya malam dan teriknya matahari. Bukan dengan penghangat ruangan maupun dinginnya AC. Tapi kita mencarinya dengan kehangatan dan kesejukan keluarga. Sebuah keintiman yang menjauhkan kita dari keterasingan.
Was happiness (which was perhaps achieved not by getting what you wanted, but rather, by obtaining what you didn’t know you wished for until it was in hand) a hologram that would continually change appearance with the slightest shift of perspective? Or maybe happiness by definition was a temporary state of being recognizable only in hindsight. It was impossible to catch what always managed to be overrun and end up in the rear view mirror.
I tried to hate you, to forgive you, all just to forget you, but I’m only capable of loving you. You’re tattooed onto my skin, and the more I try to erase you, the deeper you sink in.
This place is Hell’s waiting room.