a curator

There are days that I cannot find the sun even though its right outside my goddamn window.

Wouldn’t we be quite the pair?—you with your bad heart, me with my bad head. Together, though, we might have something worthwhile.

expresses:

I still catch myself feeling sad about things that don’t matter anymore.

I’m that sickened with myself. Sick. Sick. Sick. Sick to death of being sick.

“And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it’s already happened.”

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?

There were things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So I buried them, and let them hurt me.