aesthetic side blog.

Sometimes you break the things you love and sometimes the things you love break you.

I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don’t expect to be happy. I don’t imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don’t think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature – as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies.

But the fall—the falling / of it / even after it’s done—

I wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song      where it falls down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery;      I wanted  to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know whoever I was, I was alive for a little while.

I have done bad things. I can’t take them back, and they are part of who I am. Most of the time, they seem like the only thing I am.

Now, do not misunderstand me; when I call myself a shell I mean- a used up bullet casing. As in, the aftermath of something lethal. As in, an echo of inflicted evil.

You aren’t afraid of throwing yourself in the path of danger, but you’re terrified of letting anyone in.

When we don’t know who to hate, we hate ourselves.

what is more unfair than having to choose between being a monster or being a hero?          (—when you have to be both.) when you learn that the road to hell is paved with more than just good intentions.

To whom do I owe the biggest apology? No one’s been crueller than I’ve been to me.

how to get over your attachment to someone you haven’t spoken to in months in one easy step

I’ve never met a strong person with an easy past.