Find your loss. And when you do, you must bury it deep, deep down, // Waiting for This Story to End Before I Begin Another // I like the idea of a good ending. Clear and bold punctuation. Ripe before the rotting. You yeild the axe, and chop away. // "You cannot feel what you do not feel– you cannot be blamed for that lack." // " Does anything hurt more than missing someone? " //" Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck. " // In retrospect, everything’s better in the past.

To have her here in bed with me, breathing on me, her hair in my mouth—I count that something of a miracle.

Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad dreams, your shoes, your nouns. Take me to your fingers.


The sky looks of angry ocean this morning
and I relate to it in the only way I know how;
we are both restless, both reining back
violence in our voices. It is too early to feel
so vicious. 
I take a long sip of my coffee and sigh. 
If the Earth cries later I might just join in.

We have some history together that hasn’t happened yet.

In here, the moon is always belly up,
we are more wolf than our own skin
and I am letting a little too much of me out on the streets.
Loneliness howls tonight
and we are both hungry but
I don’t need you to love me.
I need you to stay where you are.
Stay gone.


You are allowed to outgrow people.

You are a language I am no longer fluent in / but still remember how to read.
written by Ashe Vernon, from “Skeleton Song,” Wrong Side of a Fistfight 

It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. I was so preposterously serious in those days…Lightly, lightly—it’s the best advice ever given me. So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly, my darling.
written by Aldous Huxley

Do you ever feel like you’re doing a lot of things but not doing any of them very well?

Falling in love was simple; one had only to yield. Digesting another person, however, and sustaining love, was bloody work, and not a soft job.

Take it all back. Life is boring, except for flowers, sunshine, your perfect legs. A glass of cold water when you are really thirsty. The way bodies fit together. Fresh and young and sweet. Coffee in the morning. These are just moments. I struggle with the in-betweens. I just want to never stop loving like there is nothing else to do, because what else is there to do?
written by Pablo Neruda

“You never bother me. It’s just that lately between Monday and Friday my soul goes on hiatus and I’m just a working machine.”

The thing is, there has to be a plot. You can’t just drop into a scene and expect something radical to happen. 
Picture this: a boy and a girl and a gray-ish, blue-ish morning, sweet rainy air and soft light somersaulting through each windowpane. So here we have it, the boy, the girl, and the morning light. The girl’s muscles are sore from loving him so tight but they haven’t touched in days. “Where are you?” she whispers, her back against the kitchen counter. “It’s like you’re not even here. It’s like you’re yesterday or something.” The light shudders, shutters when he doesn’t respond. The room looks darker, he thinks. She looks like a bruise, he thinks. 
But what now? He goes to work, she sits alone, tapping her fingers and staring at her uneaten oatmeal before going to work. The light envelops the room in gold and then disperses, but no one witnesses the majestic trick. Lovers, roommates, friends, family? Do you get to pick if I don’t tell you?


Annie Dillard, “The Writing Life”

i will be rude to strangers
i hope you do the same
i hope reincarnation is real
i hope our petty crimes are enough to cause us to be reborn as lesser creatures
i hope we are reborn as flies
so that we can love each other as hard as we were meant to.

“The truth is, if I made you bleed more, would you hurt less?” –

❝ Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time. ❞




Emma w/ her Diploma - Brown University Graduation - 25 May 2014

Inspiration right there.


❝ I have to allow myself experience it. I have to let it consume me but not get the best of me. I have to own it and then, set it free; allow it into freedom. It must be perfect. It must be heartbreaking. It must be mine and I must, absolutely must, have it this way. ❞

You’re so cruel. But so I am.

“You’re a Disney princess who is just currently in the sad part of her feature film. It’s going to be okay.”

What can you do? You drink some water. You go out into the sun. You grow where you’ve been planted.
“That’s why she’s in love with you, you know… There were a lot of other boys, but they didn’t scare her. She rather frightened them, I think. You’re very different. But I think you frightened her, and that’s why she likes you.”

“We were going to get married but we ended up getting coffee instead.”

“What’s the kindest thing you almost did? Is your fear of insomnia stronger than your fear of what awoke you? Are bonsai cruel? Do you love what you love, or just the feeling? Your earliest memories: do you look though your young eyes, or look at your young self? Which feels worse: to know that there are people who do more with less talent, or that there are people with more talent? Do you walk on moving walkways? Should it make any difference that you knew it was wrong as you were doing it? Would you trade actual intelligence for the perception of being smarter? Why does it bother you when someone at the next table is having a conversation on a cell phone? How many years of your life would you trade for the greatest month of your life? What would you tell your father, if it were possible? Which is changing faster, your body, or your mind? Is it cruel to tell an old person his prognosis? Are you in any way angry at your phone? When you pass a storefront, do you look at what’s inside, look at your reflection, or neither? Is there anything you would die for if no one could ever know you died for it? If you could be assured that money wouldn’t make you any small bit happier, would you still want more money? What has been irrevocably spoiled for you? If your deepest secret became public, would you be forgiven? Is your best friend your kindest friend? Is it any way cruel to give a dog a name? Is there anything you feel a need to confess? You know it’s a “murder of crows” and a “wake of buzzards” but it’s a what of ravens, again? What is it about death that you’re afraid of? How does it make you feel to know that it’s an “unkindness of ravens”?”

— Jonathan Safran Foer, “Two-Minute Personality Test”

“You will meet a tall dark stranger and he will fuck your shit up.
We don’t know why, some kind of cosmic joke. 
It is terrifying how little you will be able to control yourself.
The bills will go unpaid. There will be flies in the kitchen. 
A smile will insist on flirting with your lips. Too much 
of a good thing will chew you up and swallow you whole. 
The moon is in your house and has nothing to say 
about all your nonsense. Now may be a good time to go
on a long journey. The stars think you need to clear your head. 
The stars think you need to run.”

We did not come to remain whole.
We came to lose our leaves like the trees,

But when I think of you, it’s as if you’ve gone away on a ship— out in a foreign brightness where there are no paths, only stars and sky.

I…I used to make long speeches to you after you left. I used to talk to you all the time, even though I was alone. I walked around for months talking to you. Now I don’t know what to say. It was easier when I just imagined you. I even imagined you talking back to me. We’d have long conversations, the two of us. It was almost like you were there. I could hear you, I could see you, smell you. I could hear your voice. Sometimes your voice would wake me up. It would wake me up in the middle of the night, just like you were in the room with me. Then…it slowly faded. I couldn’t picture you anymore. I tried to talk out loud to you like I used to, but there was nothing there. I couldn’t hear you. Then…I just gave it up. Everything stopped. You just…disappeared.

Written kisses never arrive at their destination; the ghosts drink them up along the way.

It’s dark.
You exhale a fist of memory.
I love you like weathering wood
in a room of empty pianos.
When you return to something you love,
it’s already beyond repair.
You wear it broken.

like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.

"I like missing you so hard because it makes me feel strongly that you are not a dream, you are real, you are living, and I’ll meet you again."

"I was surprised,
as always,
how easy the act of leaving was,
and how good it felt."

I’ll be the one who’ll break my heart
I’ll be the one to hold the gun

once i find a place i would like to make home of, you’ll rarely see me move around this much for sure.

i don’t wanna be thinkin about you but i am and i hope you’re doing well and i hope you’re happy, that you’re sleeping warm and feeling loved, and i hope we can see each other soon

Document the moments you feel most in love with yourself - what you’re wearing, who you’re around, what you’re doing. Recreate and repeat.

I am looking at him while he is looking away. 

"i think i met all the
wrong men before
you and i think they
ruined me but i
think you’re really
handsome the way
a map is handsome,
with skin wide open
soaked in the whole
world’s ink.

The kind of lonely
Where you see
Random people
On the street
And say,
‘Yeah. They could
Be good for me.’
— Lorne Ryan, Street-walker

 I wanted to feel something. I needed to feel something.

And of course I’m still here
waiting for you to look at me."

You didn’t want my heart
You were on your way to my body."

All my stories are about being left,
all yours about leaving. So we should have known.
Should have known to leave well enough alone;
we knew, and we didn’t. You said let’s put
our cards on the table, your card
was your body, the table my bed."
— From Waiting for This Story to End Before I Begin another

'When we walked through Rome in the evening
getting high in little bars
at least we took what we were seeing
and kept it in our little hearts;

There are endings so sad I want the morning light 
to scourge the fields. Endings that are only what the river
dreams when it dries up."

Tell them that you weren’t hungry, tell them you followed the pomegranates seeds because they tasted like blood, like love."

"One day you lose something, and you say: ‘Oh my God. I was happy. And I didn’t even know it.’"
— Unknown, Humans of New York

art that hurts
art that slows time
art that open eyes
art that stops sleep
art that spells the truth


Gigi Hadid by Christopher Anderson for Grey Magazine 


Opening your heart and being courageous and telling people that you care about them or like them or that you think they’re special only makes you a better, bigger, kinder, softer, more loving person and only attracts more love in your life.

'You will always be too much of something for someone: too big, too loud, too soft, too edgy. If you round out your edges, you lose your edge.'

( Danielle LaPorte )

'But luxury has never appealed to me, I like simple things, books, being alone, or with somebody who understands.'

He knew why he wanted to kiss her. Because she was beautiful. And before that, because she was kind. And before that, because she was smart and funny. Because she was exactly the right kind of smart and funny. Because he could imagine taking a long trip with her without ever getting bored. Because whenever he saw something new and interesting, or new and ridiculous, he always wondered what she’d have to say about it–how many stars she’d give it and why.

Eyes are distracting. You see too much. You don’t see enough.

Finally, she said: “I’m lonely” — it’s weird but you tell the wolves things, sometimes. You can’t help it, all these old wounds come open and suddenly you’re confessing to a wolf who never says anything back. She said: “I’m lonely,” and they ate her in the street.


It still fascinates me how people leave, how we expect it,
how quickly we clean the houses empty and hide ghosts
under our fingernails. How names become names
but without the burning. How the poems don’t hurt anymore.
What I am saying is the songs that remind me of you
probably remind you of someone else. What I am saying is
we have prepared for this our whole lives. What I am saying
is we are too good at stuffing suitcases with memories and
drowning the people that we used to be. What I am saying is
I’m sorry. What I am saying is that in the dark,
ephemeral looks a lot like eternal. What I am saying is
your legs must hurt from walking in and out of people’s
houses / of people’s lives / of people’s hearts. Your feet
must be sore. What I am saying is I am sorry. What I am saying
is I am still home if you want me to be. I’m sorry.
written by Lydia Wang, Apology

What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.

I’m such a “Look at the moon!” person.

Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.


India K


Wall Piece with 200 Letters
Mikko Kuorinki

I have no idea what happens next.

keep what you love, give back the rest

I hope you will find it someday, whatever 'it' is. 

I’m the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.

…I had so much fire in me and so many plans…

While I truly believe that you must have intentions to fulfill your dreams, I also think you have to leave room for the universe to have its way and play around a bit. Don’t get so focused on one particular opportunity that you’re blind to other ones that come up. If you think about one thing, and talk about it all the time, you’re being too obsessive. You might ruin it. If you let yourself meander a bit, then the right things and the right people fall into place.

When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you’d be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you’d be surprised how much you like spending time with God.
written by Donald Miller

When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.
written by Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love 

We sometimes choose the most locked up, dark versions of the story, but what a good friend does is turn on the lights, open the window, and remind us that there are a whole lot of ways to tell the same story.
written by Shauna Niequist

I wish I could throw off the thoughts which poison my happiness. And yet I take a kind of pleasure in indulging them.
written by Frederic Chopin

That moment you realize your priorities are shifting and everything you know is changing.

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

…if something is there, you can only see it with your eyes open, but if it isn’t there, you can see it just as well with your eyes closed. That’s why imaginary things are often easier to see than real ones.

i collect upon my body by Joanna “Juana” Gałuszka

her favourite place by H o l u n d e r


Untitled by e

find someone
who knows
you’re sad
just by the change
of tone in your
be with someone
who loves the
feature that
you hate the most
fall in love with
someone who
looks at you and
knows they don’t
want anyone else

You might think I lost all hope at that point. I did. And as a result I perked up and felt much better.

Each relationship between two persons is absolutely unique. That is why you cannot love two people the same. It simply is not possible. You love each person differently because of who they are and the uniqueness that they draw out of you.

Untitled by Jovan Todorovic

Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn’t your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Your life isn’t a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable. Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit. You cannot romanticize hurt. Or sadness. Or loneliness. You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way. And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film.
— Letters From Nowhere
me when i’m arguing with someone: look my memory is shit but looking at these vague statistics buried in my brain i can promise you you are wrong

I don’t listen to country music because I’m not aroused by tractors'

" It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you. "

" In myself, too many things have perished which, I imagined, would last forever. "

if i was a criminal i would do all my crimes on a scooter so the police would only see one footprint every few meters and theyd look for a one-legged man with powerful jumping muscles instead of me

" Unless it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love shouldn’t be one of them. "

" When first love ends, most people eventually know there will be more to come. They are not through with love. Love is not through with them. It will never be the same as the first, but it will be better in different ways. "

" Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again. "

" You said you were afraid to lose me, then you faced your fears and left. "

" If you have to speculate if someone loves you and wants to be with you, chances are they don’t. It’s not that complicated. Don’t waste moments waiting and wondering. Don’t throw away your time dreaming of someone that doesn’t want you. No one is that amazing, certainly not the one who would pass you up. "

 This is how you survive the unsurvivable, this is how you lose that which you cannot bear to lose, this is how you reinvent yourself, overcome your abusers, fulfill your ambitions and meet the love of your life: by following what is true, no matter where it leads you. "

" Songs and smells will bring you back to a moment in time more than anything else. It’s amazing how much can be conjured with a few notes of a song or a solitary whiff of a room. A song you didn’t even pay attention to at the time, a place that you didn’t even know had a particular smell. "

in five years time, I might not know you
in five years time, we might not speak
in five years time, we might not get along
in five years time,

you might just prove me wrong


if you are mean to me i hope you know that one day i will be sitting on a porch in my chanel suit wearing my chanel pumps and my chanel lipstick and my chanel shades and i will sip my cocktail and wordlessly order your murder and you won’t even know it was me until the last moment when you can faintly smell my chanel no. 5

erhaps we’ll find each other later,
when we aren’t two kids
scrambling to find a home.
Maybe we’ll intersect again,
with new collections
of memories and dreams
tied to our ankles,
searching for someone
to lighten to burden.
And maybe, just maybe,
next time the
I-love-yous will be real,
instead of muttered hopes
that left our lips bloodstained.

I have a shopping problem also a napping problem

" It’s important in life to conclude things properly. Only then can you let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse. "

" The most terrible thing about life
is finding it gone. "

Some of you have managed to memorize all 700 pokemon but complain about memorizing 20 vocab words

Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first?


Ernest Hemingway, The Garden of Eden

I wanted it so much. I don’t know why I wanted it so much.