liminal.fea

― Hélène Cixous, Stigmata: Escaping Texts

She's the one I want to share special moments with.

Realizing you love someone manifests in small ways, like instinctively picturing her in futures that once belonged only to you.

Moral absolutism is disgusting.

I felt my heart sink into my chest. Is this just one of those random anxiousness?

I get it now. The cold's coming back again and I wish this time I could be more selfish, except I cannot.

I'm such a sensitive soul. My emotional state affects my body instantly. Who else wraps themselves in blankets even in the middle of summer?

Random "I love yous" are scary. What crossed your mind to say that out of nowhere?

It icks me out when my younger sister starts getting the same comments I’ve been getting for years, as if we chose to be scrawny. For goodness’ sake, she’s just six.

Fragments are easy to romanticize.

Secondhand blues.

I'm going to be productive tomorrow, and, perhaps, feel less disgusted with myself.

Closed mouths don't get fed.

April, you're so full of tears.

I've never been so curious about what goes on in another person's mind until I met her.

I mourn my freedom, and my fragile sense of self.

Everybody's getting older except for me. And it feels pathetic. Too pathetic.