Moments into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into days. Days into years. Years into possibility. This will linger.
It doesn't have to be on Valentine's Day. It doesn't have to be by the time you turn eighteen or thirty-three or fifty-nine. It doesn't have to conform to whatever is usual. It doesn't have to be kismet at once, or rhapsody by the third date. It just has to be. In time. In place. In spirit. It just has to be.
To love--to fall--is not a question. To touch--to kiss--to speak--those are questions.
You could be the leaf that never falls from the tree you could be the sun that never leaves the sky this might be the happy ending without the ending this might be a reason to try
seven wonders of the world and I have to ask for an eighth fill a bottle with some prayers and spend them on hope create an easy route just so I can complicate send my heart down that slippery slope
The way you're singing in your sleep The way you look before you leap The strange illusions that you keep You don't know But I'm noticing The way your touch turns into arcs The way you slide into the dark The beating of my open heart You don't know But I'm noticing
A year. A thousand kisses. And now a thousand one, a thousand two. There are so many other place we could have ended up, but I have to believe none of them would have felt this right. "All I want is you" is not entirely true. I want so much more, and with you I think I can get it.
We are so used to releasing words, we don't know what to do with them if they stay. No matter how many times we let them go, they come back. The words that matter always stay.
I can't pretend to know what love is. It just is.
In the next election, I'm voting for your mom to be the next God.
Love is so painful, how could you ever wish it on anybody? And love is so essential, how could you ever stand in its way?
Because sometimes you just have to dance like a madman in the Self-Help section of your local bookstore.
We switch to another language-- not our invented language or the language we've learned from our lives. As we walk further up the mountain, we speak the language of silence. This language gives us time to think and move. We can be here and elsewhere at the same time.
this might be the happy ending without the ending
Holden Caulfield is the embodiment of what we mean by the phrase “young adult” – too young to be a grown-up, but too wise to the world to be completely innocent. He’s caught in the in-between, and that in-between is what all young adult authors write about.
I close my eyes. And i scream. If my whole world is crashing down around me, then I am going to make the sound of the crashing. I want to scream until all my bones break.
me: why is it upset? shouldn't it be downset? gideon: i will file a lawsuit against the dictionaries first thing tomorrow morning. we're going to tear merriam a new asshole and throw webster inside of it.
Now, I don't believe in doing hugs halfway. I can't stand people who try to hug without touching. A hug should be a full embrace - as I wrap my arms around Tony, I am not just holding him, but also trying to lift off his troubles for a moment so that the only thing he can feel is my presence, my support.
simon: that's disgusting! me: what's disgusting? simon: you know. you put your thing in the place where he, um, defecates.
me: just don't ask about his forty-three ex-boyfriends, okay? or ask him about why he's carrying around an axe. mom:... me: i'm kidding about the axe part.
it is so unfair that he lives in ohio, because that should be close enough, but since neither of us drives and neither of us would ever in a million years say, 'hey, mom, do you want to drive me across indiana to see a boy?,' we're kind of stuck.
instead i head to the computer and it's like i turn into a little girl who's just seen her first rainbow. i get all giddy and nervous and hopeful and despairing and i tell myself not to look obsessively at my buddy list, but it might as well be projected onto the insides of my eyelids. at 8:05 his name pops up, and i start to count. i only get to twelve before his IM pops up.
next to it was a dvd called 'as i get laid dying,' which had a hospital scene on the front. it was like grey's anatomy, only with less grey and more anatomy.
Maybe tonight you're scared of falling, and maybe there's somebody here or somewhere else you're thinking about, worrying over, fretting over, trying to figure out if you want to fall, or how and when you're gonna land, and i gotta tell you, friends, to stop thinking about the landing, because it's all about falling.
It's like, you know how sometimes you see a really sexy baby? Wait.
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