I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it’s drenched in sunlight and it’s weightless and I know it’s not cheap. It’s probably not even real.
—Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves (via larmoyante)
there are times, backwards ends up in the front and stillness rocks the momentum and all i taste is emptiness…and tears come. then i forget and go on normally, riding on the belief and memory that the positive is all that matters but these days it isn’t…
my mind is confronted by you (of recent)…and of myself
and it’s not good