Forget The Horror Here

ASK ME ANYTHING...

[nmyers89]

I suddenly realised that we were on borrowed time, that time is always borrowed, and that the lending agency exacts its premium precisely when we are least prepared to pay and need to borrow more...

Call Me By Your Name

[nmyers89]

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

The Great Gatsby

[nmyers89]

And on that evening when we grow older still we’ll speak about these two young men as though they were two strangers we met on the train and whom we admire and want to help along. And we’ll want to call it envy, because to call it regret would break out hearts.

Call Me By Your Name

[his-desert-rose]

[nmyers89]

there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I’m not going to let anybody see you. there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he’s in there. there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up? you want to screw up the works? you want to blow my book sales in Europe? there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes when everybody’s asleep. I say, I know that you’re there, so don’t be sad. then I put him back, but he’s singing a little in there, I haven’t quite let him die and we sleep together like that with our secret pact and it’s nice enough to make a man weep, but I don’t weep, do you?

[nmyers89]

If I could have him like this in my dreams every night of my life, I’d stake my entire life on dreams and be done with the rest.

Call Me By Your Name

[asyoumakeyourbed]

[nmyers89]

Your love is the hopeless

Light that I need

To remind me I'm living

And that I still need it

You pulled me together

With blood and soft stitches

You're proof that I'm breathing

And that I still need

To be loved and to hear you

Whisper to me

You're enough

You're enough

You're enough

The Pugilist, Keaton Henson

[nmyers89]

Sometimes people make the wrong moves

Walking in the wrong shoes

Make me feel like hope again, hope again.

Rae Morris, Don’t Go

[nmyers89]

If we hug a little tighter, our hearts will be a little closer

[nmyers89]

Unable to perceive the shape of You,

I find You all around me.

Your presence fills my eyes with Your love, It humbles my heart,

For You are everywhere.

Hakim Sanai/The Shape of Water

[sakshi-shraddha]

“You’re too smart not to know how rare, how special, what you two had was.” “Oliver was Oliver,” I said, as if that summed things up. “Parce que c'était lui, parce que c'était moi (“Because it was he, because it was I”),” my father added, quoting Montaigne’s all-encompassing explanation for his friendship with Etienne de la Boetie. I was thinking, instead, of Emily Brontë’s words: because “he’s more myself than I am.” “Oliver may be very intelligent,” I began. Once again, the disingenuous rise in intonation announced a damning but hanging invisibly between us. Anything not to let my father lead me any further down this road. “Intelligent? He was more than intelligent. What you two had had everything and nothing to do with intelligence. He was good, and you were both lucky to have found each other, because you too are good. "My father had never spoken of goodness this way before. It disarmed me. "I think he was better than me.” “I am sure he’d say the same thing about you, which flatters you both. When you least expect it, nature has cunning ways finding our weakest spot. Just…remember I’m here. Right now you may not want to feel anything, maybe you never wanted to feel anything. And..maybe its not to me you wanna speak about these things but feel something you obviously did. "You had a beautiful friendship, maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough, but I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of 30 and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything—what a waste! “I’ll say one more thing; it’ll clear the air. “I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mock-up, the other the finished version, and then there are all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow, pain – don’t kill it. Embrace it with the joy you felt.”

- Mr. Perlman to Elio, Call Me By Your Name

[olearypoetry]

[booksqouted]

You,“ he said, “are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.

Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls (via booksqouted)

[booksqouted]

He loved her, of course, but better than that, he chose her, day after day. Choice: that was the thing.

Sherman Alexie, The Toughest Indian in the World (via booksqouted)

[booksqouted]

Grief is like a splinter deep into every fingertip; to touch anything is torture.

Erin Kelly, Broadchurch (via booksqouted)

[booksqouted]

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets (via booksqouted)