once you’ve felt something once, it feels entirely different on subsequent occasions. he was seventeen and i loved him so dearly and with desperate commitment, but part of me always felt nostalgic when we were together because i always knew it would end. he’s twenty-one now and it’s impossible for me to look as myself now, as i did then. i liked loving him; it was dumb but fun. he was stupid and funny and those first days were the sweetest days i’d ever felt. the sound of my phone was orchestral and the scent of my p***y was industrial (-:
said the crow to the eye:
“i see how you cry,
you cry because you’re lost in the world.
your hair is thrown up
like your dinner and lunch
you act like a woman
but you’re only a girl.
you use me to find and you use me to feel
light in a world where you’re blind
you’ll run when i’m near
hold tight when i’m far
but it’s you, not me
you must find.”
Wednesday 26th March 2014, 9:25am (looking out the window in English)
“I wish for a small time, that I was that duck. Alone, wandering through the damp grass, eating little bits that I find as I go. It looks like such a happy little life living behind those beady eyes and inside that low-hung belly. I wish that I would never know, like that duck, what my backside looks like. The duck doesn’t need to have talent or intelligence or personality, just the simple, animal instinct to sustain its life. It has wings, but chooses not to used them because unlike us humans, it is happy where it is. It would be rather catastrophic if humans were given wings because even the short time I have here to observe this duck is limited, before the everlasting desire to rush away to somewhere else, sweeps us up and away with the ring of a bell.”