tragedies and their timing

hi, i've missed you

even though i'm no better than a beast, don't i have the right to live?

farewell, oh dae-su.

what can you do, against the lunatic who is more intelligent than yourself, who gives your arguments a fair hearing then simply persists in his lunacy?

'I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a person could get.'

my emotions are epileptic btw.

Windmill or no windmill, he said, life would go on
as it had always gone on — that is, badly.

"I'm not sentimental -- I'm as romantic as you are. The idea, you know, is that the sentimental person thinks things will last -- the romantic person has a desperate confidence that they won't. "

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, this side of paradise 1920

You teach me now how cruel you’ve been – cruel and false. Why did you despise me? Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort – you deserve this. You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears. They’ll blight you – they’ll damn you. You loved me – then what right had you to leave me? What right – answer me – for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart – you have broken it – and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me, that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you – oh God! would you like to live with your soul in the grave?

Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can't take it. and my heart is just going to cave in.

“forever, simply forever.”

I truly must have lost my mind or at least control of it, for I have just tried to pray.

I wanted to ask God to help me but I could utter only words, dark, useless words which fell on the floor beside me and rolled off into the corners and underneath the bed.

I tried, I really tried to remember what I should say after, “Now I lay me down to sleep …” but they are only words, useless, artificial, heavy words which have no meaning and no powers. They are like the ravings of the idiotic spewing woman who is now part of my inmate family. Verbal rantings, useless, groping, unimportant, with no power and no glory. Sometimes I think death is the only way out of this room.

Take a drink every time you hear you’re not enough.
Not the right fit.
Not the right look.
Not the right focus.
Not the right drive.
Not the right time.
Not the right job.
Not the right path.
Not the right future.
Not the right present.
Not the right you.
Not you.
(Not me?)
There’s just something missing.
(Missing…)
From us.
What could I have done?
Nothing. It’s just …
(Who you are.)
I didn’t think we were serious.
(You’re just too …
… sweet.
… soft.
… sensitive.)
I just don’t see us ending up together.
I met someone.

I’m sorry.
It’s not you.
Swallow it down.
We’re not on the same page.
We’re not in the same place.
It’s not you.
We can’t help who we fall in love with.
(And who we don’t.)
You’re such a good friend.
You’re going to make the right girl happy.
You deserve better.
Let’s stay friends.
I don’t want to lose you.
It’s not you.
I’m sorry