"If there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, and we will give it walls, and we will furnish it with soft, red interiors, from the inside out, and give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jeweller's felt so that we should never hear it. Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does."

— Jonathan Safran Foer (Everything is Illuminated: A Novel)


3:20 PM

I must not lie in your thoughts as you do mine.
Because then maybe you'll wait for me once in a while.

8:36 PM
I want to jump off the cliff of routine.


7:03 PM

I write,
I write all this for you.


9:18 PM

There is something I must say
I am mad.
If I crush the leaves I've pocketed away for safe keeping,
Will the sentiments before be the same?
Or does it change for me, accordingly, to the nature of my action?


9:52 PM



10:24 PM

See, this is what bothers me: that despite my quick feelings mustered, I cannot quite settle it into words unless I jot it down that instant. It is afterward that the words, they lose me--in the thick of all the gray matter trapped in my head--and I cannot, for the life of me, gain enough thought to pull it out. Unless, of course, I write it down that instant. This is an instant I'm sharing. Once it's over, I would probably never find it. If, in a special case, I happen to come across it once again. There are many mistakes I find in my reasoning, as well. But I don't want to share them with you. Only that I am frustrated. With this and with myself and with all of us.

There are so many things I have to say.
But why I can't say it, I don't know.
Maybe because I think it will hurt me in the end.
Where my barriers become blurred--the one that told me when to stop--it is my superior.
It covers me from humility, from the pangs of Time.

I can tell myself to love less, but I just can't help it.

And maybe, maybe it doesn't matter. None of it.
Hi five if you give a damn, anyway.