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now i am forced to somehow un-love you. as if i never craved your touch, your kiss, or simply your presence across the room. i am forced to pretend this heart is not longing for your return. we are now two strangers who shared a past, and an imaginary future together. i am forced to dry my tears at night and make myself believe this is for the better. my arms no longer have a home. and your absence will forever torment my soul.

- dee (i am forced to forget us)

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I struggle with the fact that at one time I loved you to the point that I sacrificed my own happiness for you and that, at the same time, you did not love me enough to stop me.

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The Glass Essay, Anne Carson | Molly Brodak, Molly Brodak

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three stages of life:

1. there are monsters under my bed.

2. there are monsters in my head.

3. i am the monster now.

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By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest

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Mieko Kawakami, from 'Heaven'

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child of the moon

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there's something so compelling to me about the fact that sometimes leaving a blade or bullet inside the wound it made is the only way to prevent you from bleeding to death. something about the ironic symbolism of it. when the thing designed and intended to kill you is the only thing keeping you alive.

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Cats rule the world.

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believing that good can happen to you after a life of tragedy is the most painful thing you can choose. but it is necessary. because otherwise there is nothing else. you miss it all hiding

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Read, read, read. Read everything -- trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You'll absorb it. Then write. If it's good, you'll find out. If it's not, throw it out of the window.

— William Faulkner.