I try to talk to someone but I end up deleting all my messages

I'm looking for you in the crowd of people, buses, subways and shopping centres, but you don't even exist.

The brutality of tenderness leaves me helpless

I'm not dating to marry, I'm dating to experience a breakup painful enough to kickstart my writing career

Sometimes, I wish I left all of my feelings in my basements so I could spare some to myself.

The art of double-crosssing

You said, "I love you," and stabbed me where it hurt.

Am I perhaps a riddle?

But good God
what's wrong with me,
after all? What am I missing?
Why this emptiness,
this nostalgia?
What is this anxiety as if I only loved something I didn't know?

— Clarice Lispector | a letter to Fernando Sabino

I wished you'd love me more

I identify as sadness. My pronouns as why/me.

#bio

Fr.

"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...to 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..."

— Aldous Huxley | Island

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