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you were really something. i’m not quite sure who you are now, but i was achingly fond of you.
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so much of life is just symptomatic of loneliness. there's nothing more communal than birth and death, yet there is nothing more lonely than having a life all to yourself. sometimes, i think, love is the only cure for this panic. and, sometimes, only the panic survives .
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did i live with you in a past life? was i your lifelong partner? is that why the idea of losing you torments me so much? how long have i been without you?
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ❛❛ If you are to be the sun, I am to be Icarus, a fool fated to fall and burn before I ever reach you. Even on wings of wax, I would fly towards you.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
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A poem by Arthur Rimbaud:
“And so off I went, fists thrust in the torn pockets
Of a coat held together by no more than its name.”
the final mix i guess? Yoshiki agreeing to give up his humanity in exchange for the monstrous. On top of that, they only reported one person missing—so did the two of them become one?
But then why did ogHikaru say it was fine to leave his body to someone else? let's cook.
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there’s something so fascinating about the personification of death, especially in gothic literature. the idea of something so unknowable taking on a human form and becoming someone you could almost love
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i think my vocabulary expands at the extremes of my emotions. when i am unbearably sad or hopelessly in love words flow out of me in ways that even surprise me. its like i can only articulate myself when i feel too much, otherwise i am just repeating the same words over and over
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somewhere along the line, i stopped wanting more for myself. i became cynical and weary about fulfilling my dreams and desires. it seems now i'm trying to recover the dreamer and the artist from the constraints of a severely unfeeling world. my liberation is within alignment .



































