Detail : L'amour et Psyché, 1797, by Antonio Canova

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Detail : L'amour et Psyché, 1797, by Antonio Canova

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Arundhati Roy, The End of Imagination
“It’s strange. I felt less lonely when I didn’t know you.”
— Jean-Paul Sartre, The Flies (tr. by Stuart Gilbert & Lionel Abel), 1943
I love dusky pinks. this too is an earth tone, to the evolved mind

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oh, i'm scared of it. looking down into how much i like you and knowing it only grows from there. like i am huddled beyond the safe point; too far already. what am i supposed to say? you were never one for poetics. i can't bear it, it only seeks to swallow me, and all that big raw heart of mine with it.
I KNOW LOVE IS REAL BECAUSE IM FULL OF IT
what would have been more beautiful than that? just a winter full of lights, and your hand on mine. the simplicity of knowing - oh. we're going to be alright.

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the bell jar, sylvia plath.
we are not born to die!! what are you talking about!! do you think a book begins just to finish? do you think a song opens with a beautiful chord just for it to end? you don’t read the book to finish it, you read the book to eat up the excitement and the emotions it evokes!! to learn and to digest and to fall in love and be heartbroken!! you listen to the song to dance and dance and sing your throat raw!!! to cry and smile and swell with the harmonies!! yes, we are born with the inevitable fate of death, we are mortal after all, but that is merely the finale of the play!! the final act, the closing of the curtains - we are not born to take a bow and exit stage left!! we are born to love and be joyous and yell and move and learn and cry and feelfeelfeel!!! we are not born to die, silly, we’re born to live!!!
I am stewing in heartbreak today. Sundays were my reprieve, a chance to melt into the floorboards, and re-emerge brand new. But right now all I feel is the cacophony of my heart as it tries to beat past the hurt.

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it’s so weird to no longer have someone in your life. whether it’s a friend you don’t talk to anymore or a partner you’ve broken up with, it’s so weird to be left with all of this knowledge of someone else and have no use for it anymore. like the way they drink their tea, their favourite meal when they’re sad, a story they told you abt their childhood when you both saw something that reminded them of said story so now you’re reminded of it too when you see that thing. and to have someone out in the world with so much intimate and casual knowledge of you and you wonder if they feel happy or sad or uncaring when they see something that reminds them of you too.