Do you ever brush your own skin just because no one else will? Do you ever feel like everyone in the room knows something you don't? Does anyone know what I'm talking about? I take a certain amount of comfort in realizing and somewhat hoping that everyone else shares in these particular moments. Times in which you just feel so defeated despite all your heroism, times in which your chest thirsts for the feel of another pressed against it, and times in which your own logic doesn't seem to make sense in its context.
The absolute value of life is that which you can conjure. Passion makes life worth living. Art makes life worth living. Laughter.
The feel of hands on my cheeks makes life worth living, even if they are only my own.
Does the fear of the clamor in the other room reveal anything to me? Does the constant drone of inevitability weigh on me? Am I a product of everything else and nothing unto myself?
not today.
Today I feel so god damned jealous, and I don't even know why. Life can be so utterly frustrating, and it can be so intensely satisfying simultaneously.
Pleasure and pain pleasure and pain...all we are is pleasure and pain...she sang softly to her son.
We are all the worst versions of ourselves, and hopefully most days, we are the best.
Take my money and my family and my friends and my home, my heart my sight my limbs my bones, but please god please leave me my passion.
leave me my passion.
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