The. World. Is. Not. A. Safe. Place.
The Color Of Extraordinary.
Grief is forever. It doesn’t go away; it becomes part of you, step for step, breath for breath.
I know the expression love bloomed is metaphorical, but in my heart in this moment, there is one badass flower, captured in time-lapse photography, going from bud to wild radiant blossom in ten seconds flat.
Our tongues have fallen madly in love and gotten married and moved to Paris.
Who wants to know that the person you love and need the most can just vanish forever.
And then he smiles, and in all the places around the globe where it’s night, day breaks.
Music: what life, what living itself sounds like.
I always imagined music trapped inside my clarinet, not trapped inside of me. But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?
That’s exactly it – I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.
I’ve never once thought about the interpretative, the storytelling aspect of life, of my life. I always felt like I was in a story, yes, but not like I was the author of it, or like I had any say in its telling whatsoever. You can tell your story any way you damn well please. It’s your solo.
You can tell your story any way you damn well please. It’s your solo.
According to all the experts, it’s time for me to talk about what I’m going through... I can’t. I’d need a new alphabet, one made of falling, of tectonic plates shifting, of the deep devouring dark.
Later, as he plays and plays, as all the fog burns away, I think, he’s right. That’s exactly it – I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.
Who wants to know we are just one carefree breath away from the end? Who wants to know that the person you love and need the most can just vanish forever?
Es nuestra historia y la contamos como queremos.
And it’s just dawned on me that I might be the author of my own story, but so is everyone else the author of their own stories, and sometimes, like now, there’s no overlap.
I look into his sorrowless eyes and a door in my heart blows open. And when we kiss, i see that on the other side of that door is sky.
I didn’t know you could get buried in your own silence.
I want my sister. I want to hurl a building at God. I take a breath and exhale with enough force to blow the orange paint right off the walls.