I miss grainy pictures of my old life.

the gap in the curtains makes me feel like running away

Mind vomit. Because for some reason, i sometimes think in poetic meter

Let the boys play their games of politics and sex
While the girls get told that 'father knows best'
The old ways must die before we'll be let in
To their smoke-rooms, cigars and sleaze-filled grins

I should sleep, but I don't dream here.

I've been thinking a lot of things lately.

Mostly that I don't know how to say them anymore.

There's a hole in my soul. And it's filled with so many things. But none of it is enough because there's nothing to hold it all together. And I shiver because the wind blows through it and I can feel the cold in my bones.

I fucking miss the York-hi.

Not high school, not York. Just the York-hi and its fabulous, mercurial and hilarious staff.

just saying

I like how we're still so much in each other's lives. I mean, we don't all talk everyday, or have to know every detail, but we're still interested in the same things that brought us together in the beginning, and it still works like it used to.

I appreciate y'all.

sometimes i feel as though i am seeing only a reflection of the world or that i am blind and all i see is only my imagination and that the only way to find truth is to close my eyes hold my breath and step forward

who am I to ask for more, to insist on hunger? why, when others are content to be satisfied, must I always search for more?

More people, more things, more words, more silence, more you, more me, more happy, more sad, more sleep, more coffee.

more. just like anything, if you say it enough it begins to lose meaning.

100th post.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/47111537@N02/4865292467/in/faves-rafaelrodz/

“…in real life I always seem to have a hard time winding up a conversation or asking somebody to leave, and sometimes the moment becomes so delicate and fraught with social complexity that I’ll get overwhelmed trying to sort out all the different possible ways of saying it and all the different implications of each option and will just sort of blank out and do it totally straight — ‘I want to terminate the conversation and not have you be in my apartment anymore’ — which evidently makes me look either as if I’m very rude and abrupt or as if I’m semi-autistic and have no sense of how to wind up a conversation gracefully…I’ve actually lost friends this way.”

Consider the Lobster: and Other Essays by David Foster Wallace

The Like - He's Not A Boy

Laura Marling - Rambling Man

As soon as we start defining life by what we can and can not handle,

it all becomes too difficult.