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“You seem to have this strange image of me as a lost child, like I’ve just been thrown on the side of the road like garbage, or roadkill, but kids like me? We’re not lost. We may be the only ones who never are. We always know exactly where we are and where we can go. And where we can’t.”
— Dot Hutchison, The Butterfly Garden
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“You seem to have this strange image of me as a lost child, like I’ve just been thrown on the side of the road like garbage, or roadkill, but kids like me? We’re not lost. We may be the only ones who never are. We always know exactly where we are and where we can go. And where we can’t.”
— Dot Hutchison, The Butterfly Garden
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“Getting over it doesn’t mean forgetting it. It just means reducing the pain to a tolerable level, a level that doesn’t destroy you.”
— Kevin Brooks
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“Fuck being nice to everyone. If someone treats you badly, you have every right not to tolerate bullshit.”
— Unknown
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“A book can teach you, a conversation can assure you, a poem can seduce you, a genius can inspire you but only you can save yourself.”
— Anthony Anaxagorou
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No matter what happens, I'll always get what I want because that's the law baby
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Your remaining goal for 2022: Rest, Reflect, and Re-evaluate. Recharge before you resolve. That's for 2023.
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I’m sorry all my “I love you"s are silent or sewn into half-hugs and a glass of milk beside my coffee on the kitchen counter. And I’m sorry I was tongue-tied at the airport. When you said, "Make your way to me after two years,” all I could do was nod.
When I got home, I didn’t let her give away your old orange shirt- the one with the monster trucks on it- because it reminded me of how you loved orange and how I loved orange because I loved you.
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false grief
I feel like I’m grieving for a long-deceased lover, your body buried far below me, your spirit high above, high above me.
Yet here you persist living without me, when I cannot find even a solitary breath that of which does not contain the scent of you,
devilish. The distance between us grows, as neither of us do; I act like a selfish child, spiting myself, crying, self-sabotage, in hopes that you look at me, yet you simply walk further away and rightfully so though you, too, are childish.
Never daring to close the distance, let your words flow without mine as the lab rats for no matter what, you cannot be worse than me that much is certain.
Is it not, dear?
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Slide Down The Rockface
Down pour, digging the four round lighthouses: crunching the ever needed blindness from an unknown. Would it ever cascade, calling a barricade into question, the ceiling's a lover lost, a puppet on play lists, whichever agony makes the darkness sing into me like the weather of Georgia. The likeness of crawling, beyond whatever my hands pull from the mooted snow or these Ritz Carlton bones. I can't recall who your face looked most of. I was on fire side. I was imbibed and afraid of my bullshit. This passion for sharp thorns. So much ignominy, so apropos, it seems. Likewise appearing slow, such a life of leaves and trickling creeks and running home from the cries in the sky. Another loner to tame your soul, to merit skulking on, another leg, another spirit to anoint with all the dusty calligraphy of pleas. Forever went to the dogs. Some horcrux or colophon, coupons for winged symbols of how my pain mixes into stones that I must carry into this ocean of grief. They piled them on top of each other, round, smooth, hung like jealous seagulls on the wind. Abeyance bathes the front yard, where there is some paralyzed hope left by the grandmother oak tree.
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“Create a life that feels good on the inside, not one that just looks good on the outside.”
— Unknown
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“Worrying is stupid, it’s like walking around with an umbrella waiting for it to rain.”
— Wiz Khalifa
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