The Lonely Life of a Writer

Me dei conta de que eu tenho medo de ser feliz...

“I loved you so much once. I did. More than anything in the whole wide world. Imagine that. What a laugh that is now. Can you believe it? We were so intimate once upon a time I can’t believe it now. The memory of being that intimate with somebody. We were so intimate I could puke. I can’t imagine ever being that intimate with somebody else. I haven’t been.”

“I’m lonely. And I’m lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic.”

“I need you to know that no matter what happens, it was worth it to me. Being with you, loving you. It was all worth it.”

“Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you.”