this is my closet

“i saw you again and you looked away. and it occurred to me that you couldn’t face the scars you left under my ribs on the left side of my chest. i think i ruined your night a little bit, but i don’t mind.”

Fuck you. Fuck you from the bitter bottom of my fucking heart.

“…Isn’t desire always the same, whether the object is present or absent? Isn’t the object always absent? —This isn’t the same languor: there are two words: Pothos, desire for the absent being, and Himéros, the more burning desire for the present being.”

“Things end. People leave. And you know what? Life goes on. Besides, if bad things didn’t happen, how would you be able to feel the good ones?”

“That’s it, I guess. Just go on living, whether you feel like it or not.”

“And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in.”