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Alice Walker (via writingbox)

i suppose at one time in my life i might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. this is the only story i will ever be able to tell. - the secret history

“It was heart-shaking. Glorious. Torches, dizziness, singing. Wolves howling around us and a bull bellowing in the dark. The river ran white. It was like a film in fast motion, the moon waxing and waning, clouds rushing across the sky. Vines grew from the ground so fast they twined up the trees like snakes; seasons passing in the wink of an eye, entire years for all I know…”

Does such a thing as ‘the fatal flaw’, that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn’t. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.

home. (x)

It’s all falling apart! I’m erasing you, and I’m happy! You did it to me first! I can’t believe you did this to me.

4 weeks.