March 2012
“It’s no use to say
to this girl: You are well cared for.
Here is a safe room, here
is food and everything you need.
She cannot see what you see.
The darkness washes towards her
like an avalanche. Like falling.
She would like to step forward into it
as if it were not a vacancy
but a destination,
leaving her body pulled off
and crumpled behind her like a sleeve.” —Margaret Atwood
to this girl: You are well cared for.
Here is a safe room, here
is food and everything you need.
She cannot see what you see.
The darkness washes towards her
like an avalanche. Like falling.
She would like to step forward into it
as if it were not a vacancy
but a destination,
leaving her body pulled off
and crumpled behind her like a sleeve.” —Margaret Atwood
“Sometimes I’d rather be a tree frog. I don’t think they fall asleep worried that they’ve been a bad tree frog that afternoon or envying kingfishers or resenting their own diet or habitat. They just seem to spend 100% of their time being magnificent at being a tree frog. We spend most of our time regardless of our religion or lack of it, disappointed in ourselves, ashamed of ourselves, envious of others — always becoming and rarely being.”
—
Stephen Fry
(via tigerxxeyes)
today, I want love.
I woke up late from a fevered dream where a faceless man held me in silence for hours—his heart at my back, my kisses on his bones. In my dream, I loved him, loved every strand of hair, every satisfied breath out of his lungs.
I have managed to keep my desire for love somewhat at bay, ignored it while its tried time and time again to beat down my door in the middle of the night. But today, its taken hold of me. today, I want to love someone.
I don’t want to love him. I want to give my love to someone different, someone right—kind, soft, knowing, whole. I want to treasure someone again, hold them precious, speak to them softly, tuck them in with me at night.
I want love, but I know I can’t have it at the moment.
I wouldn’t know what to do with somebody who was kind and gentle with me, who meant every word he ever said, who wanted to protect me. right now, that man would seem just as frightening as the monster who came before him.
“Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness.”
—Poppy Z. Brite (via thesaltwaternight)
