it's been too long since i read any book worth reading.
i'm considering that those might be related.
the words in my head are no longer phonemes but muck, strung together.
but i miss it here. and i miss you, les jeune fille à les oiseaux, because you remember me.
yesterday this happened.
and then this.
swallow that thick lump of pride, do.
maybe you don't fit in with life, but you have to.
get up.
a man is known for the silence he keeps.
my lips, i will stitch you together from the inside so no one will see.
let's play pretend.
surely even a tea party requires manners.
no need for fancy dress but watch your mouth, posture up, don't get too comfortable.
you may be the best tea drinker in the galaxy, but.
that mouth.
how long before the rumors start and you are invited no more and the future dwindles to nothing but spinsterhood?
but.
today, this.
it's possible to be punched back by your own pride and lose all your air and cry wracking sobs into your lover's breast and still wake up with a grain of hope.
hope is an elusive slippery thing. so grab tight; your hands are still tremoring.
A says that people like us, we're brilliant. but not fit for seamlessly sliding through the world.
more or less, learn how to fit your personality into life.
it's not fair.
but it is what it is.
and somebody's gotta pay the rent.
