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I don’t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight.

“September tastes of ashes. And yet it insists. Softly. But it insists”

And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.

Fall for them but don’t let them ruin you.

What stops me from taking myself seriously, even though I am essentially a serious person, is that I find myself extremely ridiculous, not in the sense of the small-scale ridiculousness of slap-stick comedy, but rather in the sense of ridiculousness that seems intrinsic to human life and that manifests itself in the simplest actions and the most extraordinary gestures.

Let’s not talk about how I am. It’s a subject I know too much about to want think about anymore.

Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. Especially when you are near me as you are now. It feels as though I had a string tied here under my left rib where my heart is, tightly knotted to you in a similar fashion. And when you go, with all that distance between us, I am afraid that this cord will be snapped, and I shall bleed inwardly.

When I am with you, I fear no pain for my only pain is a pain of happiness.

I think I will always be lonely in this world,

“But the heart began to grieve, to ache, like an open wound.”

I feel it so strongly sometimes that I’m frightened.