letter of kaye @letterofkaye - Tumblr Blog

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

The song of Achilles (via mrelliot-alderson)

...I survived, and I told myself that fact every single day. It's a little like having a meteor land in your backyard without hitting the house. You can either focus on the meteor, and what almost happened, or you can focus on the fortunate miss and what didn't happen. I decided to do my best to focus on the miss.

The Center Cannot Hold, Elyn R. Saks

sp00oo0ky

will post.

at 25,

your frontal cortex (primarily responsible for personality, behavior, emotional and intellectual functions) and amygdala (emotions, emotional behavior, and motivation) have finished developing, thus deeming you, at least biologically, a fully formed adult capable of making rational, well-rounded decisions.

so naturally, when i turned 25, i jumped out of a plane with a man and a parachute strapped onto my back.

cheers, salud, though the wrinkles are here- this ticker’s still tickin.

#quarter life crisis #stop this train

Even with my eyes crusted shut with the salt of my dehydration, I could clearly see her process the event before her in one clean sweep: my prone corpse on the bathroom floor as my night's colorful choices attacked all 5 of her senses (whether the offending agents hailed most from me or the toilet was still up for debate). I could imagine her mouth opening to say something. Then closing. Then opening again, a small goldfish staring out into the world from its safe glass bowl. After a pregnant set of moments, she finally settled with, "How. In the hell. Did you get home?" I felt my lips quirk up in a not-so-unfriendly way as I said, "A miracle."

an unwritten book

my mother was religious... is religious.

as child, she taught me prayers that i would learn to recite every day. one for when i woke. another before every meal. one before i would go to bed. a prayer for thanksgiving. a prayer for safety. a prayer for fulfillment of goals, saving of souls. a prayer for hope, a prayer in times of struggle and need.

i don’t know when they became a part of my routine, except just that they were. subconsciously ingrained in my vocabulary like one of those songs on the radio that tends to stay in your head for hours and hours on end, a breath of a memory sneaking its way past down from my head and up from my heart and somehow resting in the back of my throat, and easing out of my mouth with a whisper or a hum, as effortlessly and as thoughtlessly as breathing itself.

i gave you a name, it was mine and mine alone, like i could some how keep you forever. a name i was thankful to know. a name that was so safe, it felt like home. a name that promised an unknown future, but a future nonetheless that imagined to be witnessed together, a future through the shit storms, empty pockets, failures, and heart breaks, we still found hope in each other.

you hated it.

so now, as the world shifts and rumbles, it seeps out of the corners of my mouth, between my teeth, out before i can reign you back in, in, inside-- out, your name slips out from my lips again and again, unintentionally, but without doubt. i don’t know when you became a part of my routine, except that you just were. subconsciously ingrained into the center of me, like one of those litanies i learned from way back when.

#frank