I like writing.

Some memories are self-harm.

“Nothing lasts, you see, not even the thoughts inside you. And you mustn’t waste your time looking for them. Once a thing is gone, that is the end of it.”

“To be enlightened is to be aware, always, of total reality in its immanent otherness — to be aware of it and yet remain in a condition to survive as an animal, to think and feel as a human being, to resort whenever expedient to systematic reasoning. Our goal is to discover that we have always been where we ought to be. Unhappily we make the task exceedingly difficult for ourselves.”

The broken will always be able to love harder than most. Once you've been in the dark, you learn to appreciate everything that shines.

The desire for you is sharp and deep. Nothing in the world can silence it and nothing in the world can fill it but you. There is nothing more than sighs in my mouth, thirst in my lips, the throbbing of emptiness in my arms. Colors fade and flavors become bland, the fullness is lost to the empty spaces that cry out for your presence. I am consumed by a single thought and a single feeling that turns into fire in my chest, water in my eyes, a universe of absence that throbs in my throat. My hands freeze and the letters are lost in an infinite void. Come, my heart feels heavy with so much I want to tell you and long to give you. Come, I can't bear this anymore, this missing you.