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never again.
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“i think there was always a certain sadness to her eyes. something that spoke volumes if only someone had asked her about her day— have you ever met anyone with such sad eyes? as if her tears made since to the weather, it doesn’t have to change seasons just yet. she was bright even when i knew she was heavy. things she didn't want to discuss because it would just shatter her visage of trying to forget. this one terrible thing in her life that eclipse the acts of seeing how beautiful life could be. i think about her from time to time. do you have a friend that’s like that? maybe you’ve lost contact with them. maybe you don’t talk anymore. i have a few of those. it makes me a bit sad, but i think at the end of the day— everyone has a road to take and it’s never the same road. if we all took the same path, it would be far too crowd. i read that somewhere and well, it does hit different when you say it out loud. if you’re reading this, i love you. thanks for keeping me company when i didn’t really know how to enjoy the day even if nothing bad has actually happened. i hope that you are well— thank you for always being straight up with me. you really were always great to me. i’m much better now, i hope that you are too.”
— snapdragon
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People are impermanent. The love of your life will leave you. On a Sunday morning, they’ll kiss you for the last time.
You won’t know it’s the last time, of course. You rarely do.
Later, when thinking back to it, you’ll try to remember whether they lingered for just a moment before they broke away. You’ll try to remember the placement of their hands.
Much later still, you’ll become stuck on the memory of how you met. How you fell in love with their mind. How they surprised you. How they challenged you to become a better person.
You’ll spend Friday evenings trying to disentangle them from your psyche. Like finding an endless array of their socks at the bottom of your drawer. Wishing they would disappear yet being unable to throw them out.
On bad nights, you want to scream. How could you? Of all the people in the world, you were supposed to stay. Out of all the temporality, all that transience - you were meant to be the exception.
You think about calling them, if only to receive a reminder of their voice on the answerphone. You almost do, but something stops you. You remember a poem you read a long time ago. It went something like -
People are impermanent. The love of your life will leave you. On a Sunday morning, they’ll kiss you for the last time.
Sue Zhao | Nothing but Strawberries
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words by Sage Francis
(source // qvotext on instagram)
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To my mental issues,
Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head.
Get out of my head before I rip you out of my body and my mind.
Get out of my head before I plunge the knife deep inside my head in a desperate attempt to kill you.
Get out of my head before I make all of those fucking nightmares come true.
Get out of my head before I go even more insane than I already am.
Get out of my head before tonight.
Get out of my-
It’s pointless… Even if my mental issues leave me I know I’ll never be truly happy again. I’ll just be empty.
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There’s something beautifully pathetic about staying up late.
To control one thing.
To hear the early birds chirping while having a late night snack and going to sleep afterwards.
To sleep until noon or after and be all lazy in your bed.
There’s nothing you miss before 12.
It’s fucked.
But I like it.
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