“Part of me is made of glass, and also, I love you.”

"You'll never write well if you fear dying, do you?"

"Yeah, I do, it's probably my greatest fear, actually."

"Well it's something all men before you have done, all men will do"

"I know...I know...'

"Have you ever made love to a truly great woman?"

"Actually my fiance is pretty sexy."

"...and when you make love to her you feel true and beautiful passion and you, for at least that moment, lose your fear of death?"

"Well no... that never happens"

"I believe that love that is true and real creates a rest pit from death. All cowardice comes from not loving or not loving well, which is the same thing. And when a man who is brave and true looks death squarely in the face, like some rhino hunters I know, or Belmonte who is truly brave, it is because they love with sufficent passion to push death out of their minds. Until it returns as it does to all men. And then you must make really good love again. Think about it."

The night all of my dreams came true, and like all happy endings,It was a tragedy, Of my device, for I succeeded.

"All men fear death. It’s a natural fear that consumes us all. We fear death because we feel that we haven’t loved well enough or loved at all, which ultimately are one in the same. However, when you make love with a truly great woman, one that deserves the utmost respect in this world and one that makes you feel truly powerful, that fear of death completely disappears. Because when you are sharing your body and heart with a great woman the world fades away. You two are the only ones in the entire universe. You conquer what most lesser men have never conquered before, you have conquered a great woman’s heart, the most vulnerable thing she can offer to another. Death no longer lingers in the mind. Fear no longer clouds your heart. Only passion for living, and for loving, become your sole reality. This is no easy task for it takes insurmountable courage. But remember this, for that moment when you are making love with a woman of true greatness you will feel immortal."

Part of my job consists of pretending to be interested in people. It's nice to be genuinely interested.

Longing suits me.

baby

I would love to meet someone I can't live without

Real Life

I can't find the exact quote that Woody Allen's Hemingway uses when he talks about fear of death and loving a good woman but I can try to summarize:

"When you make love to a good woman you lose your fear of death, even if it's just for a moment. Then after the only thing to do is to make love again"

I still don't believe I'll ever find love the way I've read about in books but I will continue to chase every charmer I come across for just a few moments of blissful existential physical ecstasy that make me forget what haunts me

Not vanity, Curiosity.

Hemingway

"You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you dies each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason.

When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself."

I would have more success in love if I wasn't attracted to guys who resembled Ernest Hemingway.

J. S. V. E. R. D. B.

All my lost, unrequited loves have become the same ghosts.

They perch on my shoulder as I sit alone. They remind me of my place in this life, a solitaire.

My mother’s womb made me the same mercurial creature that she is now. I am doomed to repeat her mistakes.

A tragic fate, to be filled with unwavering and overwhelming amounts of love. Empathy that I cannot contain, nor understand. And not a recipient in site.

It is too perfect, and too beautiful a thing to love something that will not, will never love you back.

.

In my dreams I am in a hotel by the sea.

From the window I can taste salt in the air, feel the heat of the sun on my skin. There is no sound except the waves lapping up onto the shore, in their fruitless efforts to drown the earth. They are whispering secrets to me, I cannot understand them but I am soothed. I am alone.

In my dreams I am in a hotel by the sea.

I try to imagine you there; I try to imagine that you are good company. That I am happy with you, brushing your hair or lying with your leg over my body, that sort of rough affection that I grew to love. The moment lingers in its perfection and then is gone, and I can’t decide whether it was better to have dreamed it at all, knowing that your absence will haunt me.

Loneliness becomes me; it is my most beautiful face. These days, it is my only.

Angry and Miserable

Fuck moving

I want someone to love my nuiances. I've learned that I'm not strong, I am weak and fragile and falling to pieces, lost in this world. I only let certain people see it and I was foolish to think I could leave myself exposed and not expect to get hurt. Is it so much to ask just for companionship? What is it about me that makes people love me but then discard me? As though they found something special enough to captivate them but not important enough to hold onto. I can't think of one thing in my life that I really have, that belongs to me and won't disappear.

If and when I am ever wanted, I'll be too hurt and jaded to ever let anyone in again.

patience

I wish I didn't like you anymore. Eternal Sunshine makes so much more sense to me now.

I miss the days when a boy would walk you to class and then you would spend the entire period obsessing over the walk and what it meant and then download a song from a band you know he liked and then play the song over and over again on repeat.

In this case, crash into me by Dave Matthews.

1(a le af fa ll s) one l iness

trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)

the letter

Put my heart in an envelope and sent it in the mail today. It will probably come back in pieces.

My little monster

Life’s too short to be a fool ; I don’t owe you that
Do what you feel ; Love is cruel ; But I just have to ask
Will you make a plan to love me?

I'm unhappy, but at least I'm consistent.

I can't tell you how badly I wanted someone to kiss me under the fireworks tonight.

I don't know, just feeling a little lost I guess

Of the list of things I'm really good at, making sandwiches would probably be in my top five.

My hearts a little broken but it's nice to feel something for a change

Yesterday I let myself be completely vulnerable with someone. Maybe it was only because I know I'll never see you again, at least not the same way, but it felt really good.

I should work on being a better friend. .

Everything seems to be cyclic, because I keep finding myself in the same situations as years past. Is this redundancy an error on my part? I think it must be.

Why do I keep wanting things I know I'll never have.

The universe tells me one thing for sure, some people are meant to be alone and I am one of those people. I will never truly be myself in a relationship, I will never be someones other half. I can never give myself completely to another person without punishing them for it later. I am forever difficult.

I'm afraid I'll be alone forever. Then a part of me feels weak and foolish for being afraid, and wills me to accept it gracefully.

Even if I am a bit wounded, I guess I wouldn't take it back. That is the sadist in me talking, always looking for ways to hurt myself.

412

I would dial the numbers just to listen to your breath.

Once I wanted to be the greatest

I think I'm not doing well at work. Somehow no matter how many things I accomplish, one set back makes me feel like I know nothing at all. On the one hand, I don't feel challenged and I know for sure that I'm not living up to my potential. On the other hand, I love my schedule and I've been enjoying living a life that isn't centered around my job.

I guess I've been skating by, going through the motions. When did I become okay with being sub-par? I used to want to be the best at everything. I lost that somewhere along the way. I feel second-rate. I could do more, be more. I should.

Sometimes I wish I just had a desk job.

Together we could break this trap
We'll run till we drop, baby we'll never go back
Will you walk with me out on the wire
`cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider
But I gotta find out how it feels
I want to know if love is wild, girl I want to know if love is real

Was incredible by the way. Masterpiece.

On my way out

I'd like to spend the next year doing whatever the fuck I want whenever the fuck I want to. However, I'll probably end up spending it eating take-out in my long-johns watching American Idol and obsessing over my latest unrequited crush

The only thing you have to be by the time you're 23 is yourself

Have I accomplished this?

I haven't truly mourned over my grandfather's death. And most of what I feel is actually guilt for not being able to care more, feel more deeply.

The worst part is that he asked me to do one thing for him my whole life, and I couldn't even do it. I've been too busy thinking about myself. All I do is think about myself.

How do you go about grieving?

I feel so stupid.

Sometime in the past week I stopped being normal and started having feelings, a lot of them, all at once. I am not prepared. How do people do this? All this caring is making me kind of sick, stopping me from getting through the day.

I don't know why I suddenly feel so insecure and vulnerable. Maybe it's because people aren't really supposed to be alone and I've been doing it so long now and it's not healthy. Now that I get close to what companionship is like I ultimately find a way to obsess about it and kill it.

Oh God, I'm Lenny. I know I always sympathized with him. You love something so much that you kill it. You don't even wait for it to manifest and run it's course, just find it, love it deeply and recklessly and then smother it. I see this becoming a cycle in my life.

What once was so easy now take discipline. Breathe. Relax. Be alone.

Selfishly preoccupied with thoughts of my own mortality

There is bliss in a warm pile of laundry. A reason to keep going.


Despite my obsession with order, it is one of the only messes I enjoy.

"How can you trust your feelings when they seem to disappear so quickly?"

I realized today why I cannot feel close to other people. It is because they reject sadness, like a disease. They run from it, hide it, medicate against it. And I welcome it like an old friend, chase moments that I know will bring me that melancholy ache. I don't know why, but it is this love for the morose that sets me apart. I want to linger in it. Maybe it is because the spectrum of my emotions is so short that I am happy just to feel anything at all.

I want to meet someone who will appreciate my pull towards it, love me despite it and maybe more because of it. How can anyone love a broken thing, though? That's like asking someone to pay full price for something that doesn't work; something that can't be fixed.

This is why I like being alone. The cycle continues.