January 2012
We’re watching Pulp Fiction instead of watching the ball drop.
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Here is my soul:
There is a long, rectangular window that looks in on a train compartment. It is not raining outside of the train, and it has not rained for two months, maybe more, but somehow this no longer matters to anyone who ever started counting. It’s winter, after all, and nothing is growing. The train passes numerous open fields, the grass seeming to have curled close to the ground...
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December 2011
“Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not...”
– Markus Zusak, The Book Thief (via selfinspiration)
“There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won’t...”
– Neil Gaiman (via arreter)
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Just for kicks, it would be really great if you guys could send me messages telling me what you think your soul would look like if you had to draw it. I’m going to type up one of my own a little later.
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Aaron: I told my mom that if we ever see Taylor Swift in public, prepare to get arrested, because I will rip my pants on and rape her.
Mich: .....
Me: .......
Aaron: She knows how much I love her.
Mich: What if I got Taylor Swift to sing for your birthday?
Aaron: I would cry and lick her! That would be my last birthday, too.
Mich: Why?
Aaron: I would DIE.
Aaron is leaving tomorrow.
I’m trying to remain happy, remain afloat, especially when we are trying to figure out when each of us fell asleep and I am sitting on the floor and he is laying across my bed and Jackie is there too, trying to get our attention. Mich is still sleeping and I can hear plates being stacked and unstacked downstairs, mom and dad talking in low voices and cooking.
If...
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It kind of concerns me that no matter what our conversations are about in the beginning, they always end up being about Charlie Brown, sex, or kidnapping donkeys.
My sister just pegged me in the eye with a shoe, and now it’s probably going to blacken, just in time for school to start back up and facing one of my greatest obstacles. Lovely.
“Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It’s only after you’ve lost...”
– Chuck Palahniuk (via saddest-summer)
