archival

kind of weird how parts of your soul are left in various locations without any warning… like yes i’m always at the top of that hill, sitting at the bus stop, in the cool light of the Japanese restaurant, standing at the pier etc etc

Real thing that changed how i write: I started asking "what does this character think is wrong with them" and separately "what is actually wrong with them." Those two things are almost never the same. She thinks she's too much. She's actually terrified of being too little. He thinks he's bad at commitment. He's actually just never met someone he trusted enough. The gap between their diagnosis of themselves and the real thing, that's your character arc right there. you don't have to explain it. just write both.

AITA for realizing that my best friend is actually a ghost and not telling him because i'm worried that if he realizes he's dead he'll finally be able to accept it and fully pass on and i won't be able to hang out with him anymore?

AITA if i've been dead for a while but haven't told my best friend yet because he doesn't seem to have realized i'm a ghost and if he does i'm worried that he'll finally be able to accept it and let me go and i can't bear the thought of losing him?

AITA for killing that guy

when hozier said "i really like the idea of love as a violent act, not to the person you love, but against the world, to say to somebody, 'i love you; by extension, i hate all other things" and when trista mateer said "for everyone I meet with your name i'm sorry"

Long ago, a stone felt a tingle on its skin. Moss. A new feeling. A green feeling. The granite spoke of ages in the heat of deep Earth. The moss sang the taste of sunlight and the softness of salamander bellies. They named one another. And told those names to no one at all.