red sky.

“Maybe you don’t go to hell for the things you do. Maybe you go to hell for the things you don’t do. The things you don’t finish.”

“I want to be fierce and joyful and a meadow when I’m dead. Spindly flowers and waist-high grass and the shadows of clouds across that brightness, shifting, like so many ships in the sky. I want to be all in one place, at last, but vast, a sea by the side of the road. I mean green, and I mean poppies and daisies, everything blooming at once. And I want to be, again, that girl who pushed into the wind. Who stood up to the sun, big-mouthed and brave. I mean, if I’m going to die, let me live. Let me wade out into the darkest part of the night and name myself. Wild-haired bitch of the mongrel stars. Moon on her shoulders. Dirt-rich, proud.”

“I’ve always been amazed that asteroids can fly in groups for millions of years and never touch each other or connect. They are dead rock so they find their perfect orbit and stick to it. We also wanna find that place of perfection but we’re not asteroids, we change and that’s the problem. The more you try to create a paradise the more you will resent the prison and all you’re left is dreams of a future that never happened.”

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”

“Whatever we didn’t say out loud- both of us knew.”

What was the nature of the universe into which she had been born? Why did it exist at all? If it had a purpose, what was it? These seemed to her the only questions worth exploring. And the only valid technique evolved by humans for exploring such questions was the scientific method, a robust and self-correcting search for the truth. Yet it had become obvious to her since about the age of twelve that science as it had progressed so far – physics, chemistry, biology, all the rest – had only inched towards grappling with the true questions, the fundamentals. Those questions had only been addressed by theologians and philosophers, it seemed to her. Unfortunately, their answers were a mush of doubt, self-delusion and flummery that had probably done more harm than good. And yet that was all there was.

When I asked for it, did I become an accomplice to my own murder?

We did it. We got out. We’re free We have a home that is still A home that is soft. A home where everything is new, Even the sense when you wake up that you’re not alone. Everything is at peace. Everything is new, And bright. We have a home that is fixed, The walls are intact, And the floor isn’t stained with broken Glass and blood. The windows don’t feel the need to mask The secrets. No more locking yourself in the room. No more broken furniture. No more shaken walls. No more windows shattering from The screaming. This is a new start. This is our new home. This is our forever.

I would tell you to go to Hell, but I don’t wanna meet you there. So you better go to the void

I hope you went out Smiling Like a child In the cool remnant of a dream

That there, that’s not me. I’ll go where I please. I’ll walk through walls, float down the liffey. I’m not here, this isn’t happening.

…this room is made for sleeping in, and this world for dying in.

I wear the universe backwards. I imagine putting stars in my coffee, and sugar in the sky. I imagine going fishing in clouds, and watching the sun hide behind lakes. I’m too busy dancing with my imagination to even tip toe with reality for a second. They say I’m going mad. They’re right.

This user……….

I will love you forever; whatever happens. Till I die and after I die, and when I find my way out of the land of the dead, I’ll drift about forever, all my atoms, till I find you again.