“What’s the difference?” I asked him. “Between the love of your life, and your soulmate?”
“One is a choice, and one is not.”
-Tarryn Fisher
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
And then I found out how hard it is to really change.
Even hell can get comfy once you've settled in.
I just wanted the lonely inside me to leave.
No matter how ****** you get, there's always hell when you come back down.
The funny thing is all I ever wanted I already had.
There's glimpses of heaven in every day.
In the friends I have, the music I make, the love that I feel.
I just had to start again.
-Oliver Sykes
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
What was it like to love him ? Asked Gratitude.
It was like being exhumed, I answered. And
brought to life in a flash of brilliance.
What was it like to be loved in return ? Asked Joy.
It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I
replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.
What was it like to lose him ? Asked Sorrow.
There was a long pause before I responded :
It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to
me—said all at once.
-Lang Leav
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
In the last quarter of the twentieth century, much of the world sat on the edge of an increasingly expensive theater seat waiting for something momentous to occur. Christian aficionados of the Second Coming scenario were convinced that, after two thousand years, the other shoe was about to drop. And five of the era's best-known psychics predicted that Atlantis would soon reemerge from the depths. To this last, Princess Leigh-Cheri responded, "There are three lost continents…we are one: the lovers." In whatever esteem one might hold Princess Leigh-Cheri's thoughts, one must agree that the last quarter of the twentieth century was a severe period for lovers. It was a time a time when romantic relationships took on the character of ice in spring, stranding many little children on jagged and inhospitable floes. Nobody quite knew what to make of the moon anymore
Consider a certain night in August. The moon was so bloated it was about to tip over. For more than an hour, Leigh-Cheri stared into the sky. "Does the moon have a purpose?" She inquired. The same query put to the Remington SL3 typewriter elicited this response: Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question in life is whether to **** yourself or not. Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end. Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm. There is only one serious question. And that is: Who knows how to make love stay? Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to **** yourself. Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and end of time. Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon.
-La Dispute, One
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
If you love me
for what you see,
only your eyes would be
in love with me.
If you love me
for what you've heard,
then you would love me
for my words.
If you love
my heart and mind,
then you will love me,
for all that I'm.
But if you don't love
my every flaw,
then you mustn't love me-
not at all.
-Lang Leav
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC