my mother used to tell me that the rain was for the lonely,
and that the ocean waves were where virginia woolf drowned her misery with rocks in her pockets.
as a little kid i didn't think to wonder how it could be possible
to be so immensely sad,
and then i met someone who taught me about the different
colors of the sunlight,
someone who loved those same miserable waves
that i hated so
much.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
my mother used to tell me that the rain was for the lonely,
and that the ocean waves were where virginia woolf drowned her misery with rocks in her pockets.
as a little kid i didn't think to wonder how it could be possible
to be so immensely sad,
and then i met someone who taught me about the different
colors of the sunlight,
someone who loved those same miserable waves
that i hated so
much.
