for the 12 years I had getting to know you

i am thankful.

I feel guilty for wanting to avoid the sadness, dead people need us to remember them, even if it eats us, even if all we can do is say “I am sorry”, until its as meaningless as air.

hey driver, to to top of the world!

If you’re reading this…congratulations, you’re alive. If that’s not something to smile about, I don’t know what is.

stay, i missed you

Here comes the cold. Break out the winter clothes and find a love to call your own. When it comes to December it's obvious why no one wants to be alone at Christmas time. In the dark, on the phone. You tell me the names of your brothers and your favorite colors. I'm learning you.

i'll follow you into the dark

"I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe, a million of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing notion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well. Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know - unless it be to share our laughter."

You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone. You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it.

BITCHES AIN'T SHIT!

i'm letting karma do its job.

"It is a curious thing, but as one travels the world getting older and older, it appears that happiness is easier to get used to than despair. The second time you have a root beer float, for instance, your happiness at sipping the delicious concoction may not be quite as enormous as when you first had a root beer float, and the twelfth time your happiness may be still less enormous, until root beer floats begin to offer you very little happiness at all, because you have become used to the taste of vanilla ice cream and root beer mixed together. However, the second time you find a thumbtack in your root beer float, your despair is much greater than the first time, when you dismissed the thumbtack as a freak accident rather than part of the scheme of a soda jerk, a phrase which here means "ice cream shop employee who is trying to injure your tongue," and by the twelfth time you find a thumbtack, your despair is even greater still, until you can hardly utter the phrase "root beer float" without bursting into tears. It is almost as if happiness is an acquired taste, like coconut cordial or ceviche, to which you can eventually become accustomed, but despair is something surprising each time you encounter it."
-LS

i like the rain and i like thinking of you when i look out the window

She decided to free herself, dance into the wind, create a new language. And birds fluttered around her, writing "yes" into the sky.

music was supposed to bring people closer

And I thought about how many people have loved those songs. And how many people got through a lot of bad times because of those songs. And how many people enjoyed good times with those songs. And how much those songs really mean. I think it would be great to have written one of those songs. I bet if I wrote one of them, I would be very proud. I hope the people who wrote those songs are happy. I hope they feel it's enough. I really do because they've made me happy. And I'm only one person.

sometimes i touch old letters that you sent me, looking for the echoes of your fingers

My whole life revolves around your absence, until I can't remember what I was or what I am, who I know or what I know or where I go, every moment was that moment, every day was that day, second was that second, and I've lost myself again.