"So many people glorify and romanticize “busy”. I do not. I value purpose. I believe in resting in reason and moving in passion. If you’re always busy/moving, you will miss important details. I like the mountain. Still, but when it moves, lands shift and earth quakes."
— Joseph Cook (via maddierose)
"Yes, I do remember that I had something important to tell you. You won’t mind if I don’t, will you? I’d rather leave it unexpressed — it comes out too direct and scarily hollow."
going with the flow of a french song not knowing what to feel and when or what most of the words mean it’s neat like this harmless but kind of fulfilling
not even looking at the screen just hearing loud typekeys making out desperate ticks in the midst of this acoustic rythmn
would have called him by now but the load was messed up it must be a good thing not to get near now it’s scary getting near builds up unfamiliar realities that merge with fantasies it gets coonfusing like that i’m tired of confusing
what am i doing with my life why am i not still i haven’t written a thing in nearly four years where in the universe did the damn words go and the thoughts that fueled them so feverish
wanna be alone down a well or up a tallest tree or suspended in the air with a parachute wanna shout like the wind rapes flowers make them dance happy
can you not get on that damn train whistling every hour it’s always there declaring itself hitch with it get lost if you aren’t a coward
cry a river for once or get drowned in happy capsules as if they’d go down your throat just by wishing
carrot cake and dublin things like that and cities so far away gentlemen nonexistent who’d open a car’s door ask you out to dinner after a good play right there is no such gentleman
do you wanna build a snowman it’s the winter games in sochi yeah all that figure skating would melt here it’s sultry summer so soon
of a dream having had a leg swollen with enormous ant bites now limping like it really happened
friends from a decade ago suddenly reappearing like a ghost and then lunches and dinners and dailly visits to each other’s apartment exhausted nobody got a clue about not wanting company for some while
crap loud sentimentless music trash boyfriends don’t wanna hear another thing turn it off turn off let’s drink wine instead til it hurts so good like a menstration