In Dialogue With Myself

• i write dialogues with myself • i spill ink • i obsess over tv shows and ship people who never end up together, coincidence?

[leavemeslowly]

I want to love and forget you at the same time, you are the only thing stitching me together and tearing me apart, there is nothing between the two. Maybe it is not you, maybe it is only me, as I was before I met you. I can’t decide. Having a choice seems like an illusion.

[billy-crudup]

Yeah, but I’ve dealt with my demons. It’s a process. SHAWN HATOSY as JACK ABBOT in THE PITT 2.15 | 9:00 P.M.

[thedireful]

the year did not pass—it excavated. a quiet derangement of personhood, thinned into abstraction, estranged from my own silhouette yet magnetized toward whatever latent figure is still assembling in the dark. newly diffused, my loneliness now a particulate atmosphere rather than a single wound… and yet, (!) how deeply grateful i am for this disarray, unseated from familiarity and displaced into subtler modes of becoming—for being lost with greater precision along increasingly intricate vectors. to be alive! to be alive at all!

[lucidloving]

Richard Siken, "The Worm King's Lullaby" // Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait in Letters // Trista Mateer, "I Still Forget We're Not Even Friends" // Naomi Shihab Nye, "I Still Have Everything You Gave Me" // Ashe Vernon, Wrong Side of a Fistfight // @/hollywarbs on ig // Ryan O'Connell // Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous // June Gehringer, "I get so jealous of euthanized dogs" // Jenny Han, P.S. I Still Love You

[weltenwellen]

Hanif Abdurraqib, The Crown Ain't Worth Much

[weltenwellen]

Danez Smith, “little prayer”

[lucidloving]

Joan Didion, We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live // Carlos Fuentes // Tim O'Brien // Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried // Imtiaz Dharker, "Tissue" // Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind // Doctor Who (2010) // Brandon Sanderson, Yumi and the Nightmare Painter // Sing Shong, Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint // @jomeimei421

[lucidloving]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (First Draft Phone Memo) – Taylor Swift // @dazzlingtiredeyes // @/dougrobinsonart on ig // Richard Siken, Crush // @mar-seille // @lucidloving // @/m_d_n_f_ on ig // Hera Lindsay Bird, Hera Lindsay Bird // @lucidloving // Blythe Baird, "The way I was taught to love"

[metamorphesque]

why do all the words sound heavier in my native language?

—  @metamorphesque, Yoojin Grace Wuertz (Mother Tongue), Still Dancing: An Interview With Ilya Kaminsky (by Garth Greenwell), Jhumpa Lahiri (Translating Myself and Others), @lifeinpoetry

[inkskinned]

but it is the little things, isn't it. you buy them a coffee or save a picture or send them something that reminded you of the story they told. you show them the video, watching to see if they laugh. you don't have a ton of money. most of the time you can barely afford to eat. but you make them cookies. you send them a 15 minute happy-birthday song that you invented. you drive them 3 hours to the nearest beach. you could never make it perfect, of course - but you tried to make it mean something.

[quotefeeling]

“I’ll be here just waiting and hoping for every long dream of you to come true.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald; Benediction

[leavemeslowly]

I want to love and forget you at the same time, you are the only thing stitching me together and tearing me apart, there is nothing between the two. Maybe it is not you, maybe it is only me, as I was before I met you. I can’t decide. Having a choice seems like an illusion.

[leavemeslowly]

Many months ago I wrote this as an idea, a quote I had in my head. I was hurting and putting this pain into that imagined person that was tearing me apart, soothed me for a time being.

Now, however, I have met that person in reality. I have fallen for him obviously. Too hard. It wasn’t requited. Now this quote is about that person. It is not as romantic as it appears on paper. It is tears, hollowness, regret.

It hurts so much that I can’t write anymore. But I will try. Perhaps, writing will be the thing which will stitch me into one.

[qvotext]

We could have been happy. I know that, and it is perhaps the hardest thing to know.

Ally Condie

[detambled]

[maggots-andmoths]

Every night, I find myself by the sink, packing leftovers of the day, folding remnants of what’s left—soft, shapeless bits—into thin plastic, setting them by the door for the guy who'll be picking our garbage like every morning (trying to let everything go), or perhaps the security guard missing home cooked meals because he’s far away from his home (trying to give that love to myself). . . . I just know it leaves my hands lighter. (Lies. You betray yourself every time) -sawaira

[sinwas]

On same train.

[thoughtkick]

“Now I know I’ve got a heart because it is breaking.”

— Noel Langley

[leavemeslowly]

my dreams created you. i have been dreaming them for years. nightly fantasies of a beautiful, sweet and tender boy who carries in his heart a burden he can’t even name. my nineteen-year-old self would have fallen head over heels for you. immediately. without hesitations.

it turns out I’m not so different even though I’m older now. but age is just a number, they say. I don’t seem to be more mature. i would say I’m more experienced but when i am falling for you anyway. no matter what i have learned.

only that this process, the process of falling, is slower, more painful, filled with uncertainties and insecurities. it is a long discovery of my imperfect attachment styles. all for the sake of having you close to me. of having you for me.

but I don’t know. I’m still too afraid to ask. to terrified to confess. too terrified to admit I can’t turn back now.

if you say no, you will not break my heart. but I will be missing you greatly. because, despite these feelings creeping out, i sense our story does not end here. it’s been years in the making, we can’t just throw it away. please, can you not see it?

i know emptiness so well. i don’t want you to become another void I carry around.