December 2009
1 post
nudawn:
so i just read a post cricket rebloged and the words “i’m lonely too” caught my eye. there is something about the word “lonely” that creeps me out. ive heard a few people say it, and it kind of disturbs me.
i assume that everyone is lonely. its a given. you can be all by yourself, or surrounded by people and feel lonely. you can have no life, or an overly active social calendar and...
November 2009
14 posts
10 minutes to takeoff
Don’t get on the plane. Stay here. You can live with me. Or we’ll find you a place. Or we’ll get a new place. I’ll get rid of my cat.
The threats.
If you ruin this, if you freak out, put that wall up, if you run away from this, B, I’ll kill you. He’s possibly the best thing I’ve ever seen happen to you and you can’t let being afraid of love ruin that.
You do that to girls, B.
You get girls afraid and paranoid. K used to be like that about you. She’d grill me about if I’d ever hooked up with you and I’d be like K, no! It’s not like that! And then she’d get mad about the fact that she wanted to hate you but she liked you and hated liking you. I don’t know, B, but you do that to girls.
“I like you much. I like knowing the feel of your maleness and your laugh.”
– Georgia O’ Keeffe to Jean Toomer, 1934
He said
I think about you all the time and I hate that you live so far away.
She said
It’s like you have no idea how to act when faced with a guy who isn’t a douchebag, B. It’s amazing.
the xx, Heart Skipped a Beat
12:19pm
Kid you not. An exact look alike of you here at court for jury duty with me. She’s pregnant. I should take a photo so you’ll know what you’ll look like. I mean dead on; it’s identical B.
1:25pm
It’s a little strange looking at her and thinking about it all in perspective. I mean, everything about her is you. Let’s just say you’ll be a cute pregnant one.
2:43pm
How long are you going...
319. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
gotwisdom:
UNLESS YOU ARE IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT, BUT I DOUBT THEY WOULD ALLOW YOU TO GO ON TUMBLR…
“Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be...”
– Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Bod
I spent the day doing things I always said I’d do in this city. Can you believe I’d never explored Central Park on my own? I went to my coffee date with a perfect stranger; discussed a business deal with this perfect stranger, doubted my ability to provide his company with the grand ambitions he had for it and hoped to God I’d be able to do it. I walked away from that midtown coffee shop and...
J calls me. I press ignore. He’s not you, he’s not available, he’s my past, my baggage. I’m working on letting go. A BBM. J. Don’t ignore me. Then another. I want to meet you for a drink but I’m so high. Where are you? Not sure when I’m out but I’m awfully lit. It’s hard to walk the line of ex and friend and yours but not yours. And you’re not here. Again. One drink, I say. It’s just...
I went to the concert alone. Fully alone. This city always feels like I’m alone. Not lonely, alone. It’s hard to feel alone so often; were I in Austin or D.C. or San Francisco elsewhere I’d have that person. But not here… This city is fully of it’s own trickery and games, and so, I went to the concert alone. It wasn’t my band to see, it was yours. You’re the reason I know them at all, the reason...