those arrogant bastards...
Betrayal. From tender youth we are told by father and teacher that betrayal is the most heinous offense imaginable. But what is betrayal? Betrayal means breaking rants. Betrayal means breaking ranks and going off into the unknown.
— Milan Kundera, “Words Misunderstood” of The Unbearable Lightness of Being (via luniverso)
it’s almost midnight.
i could sleep.
if i were smart, i would have been sleeping half an hour ago. done work earlier, worked on props and the set, worked some more, eaten, worked, showered maybe, slept.
instead i’m up now, still procrastinating when it’s far beyond the acceptable time to procrastinate.
it’s almost like this isn’t procrastination. it’s a competition, to see how far i can go without touching reality (tethered even to the empty bottle in front of me, beaujolais). it’s my brain’s inner sanctum. i’ve burrowed in here, looking for safety, and i’ve found it in simply staying. awake.
in a matter of speaking, i’m a mess.
irresponsibly typing away when i’ve got an entire project. do i actually think i’ll get it done? a stupid half says yes of course, but deeper down there’s the resounding no. this half as been plastered by the near-sightedness of adolescence, a terminal illness which so many of us seem to expire. why terminal? it’s killed our childhood - dead and gone.
i remember when staying up late meant four am on a weekend, at a sleepover, with monthy python’s holy grail and shit in the shape of gummy worms and chips.
it’s a routine. every night, regardless of the work, i can’t sleep before twelve twenty.
in the morning, all the way until lunch, i fight to keep my eyes open. i’ll nap in the middle of class. then i’ll reach the couch and be unable to sleep. like i don’t want to deserve it, or shouldn’t, except that’s wrong because that’s all i *need.*
i type this knowing i shouldn’t.
(Source: maddierose, via urban-cafe)
(Source: perfectlittlebody)
blank spacious expansive, expanding, because my hands can’t stop it
(just probe)
they’d reel like my brain would if that weren’t a
total loss.
initial dejection INSTANTANEOUS even, scary how little i
felt.
cause they’re there.
i can’t undo any
of that.
his or mine (or hers because of mine, i still feel like
shh
)
i want to kick him.
kick someone where it’ll make a difference, alter the future,
mine ain’t changin at all.
unless i speak.
won’t happen.
kick him a thousand times. into oblivion. end his as well as mine, because
honestly is this fair?
just ONCE and not even a full ride.
lies. more than once, but still the first. still incomplete in case you cared.
so i’ll never have that,
the sweeter half,
the daring compassionate counterpart which is required if you know your shit or
ignored if you’re taking me for granted.
in a million ways you were.
and then you disappeared.
no,
you weren’t there before.
didn’t let you be there
but you made no effort that i could see.
just a giant walking talking entertainment system,
i’m here to serve you,
i’m here to take it all.
don’t think twice, it’s alright.
Thank you, YourVeryFavoriteLibrarian! You ARE my fave librarian!
Book reference: An Abundance of Katherines by John Green
