Monday, November 20, 2017

I told you I was in love with you and you softly explained to me feelings can be unequal in a relationship: A love story.

You will never fall in love with me and I love suffering for love so I think we can make this work: a love story.

My therapist knows your name, she knows about you: a love story.

Being together is the miracle: a love story.

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

"— for love like mine can never be gotten over."

-Edgar Allan Poe

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

The day I took this photo I felt very in love.
We were going to make dinner together and in the middle of the grocery store (more specifically standing in the middle of both the meat and dairy section, a lady bumped into me with her shopping cart and gave us an annoyed glance with one eyebrow raised, I didn't blame her), he grabbed my shoulders, looked at me and said:

"I don't want you to leave so can you just go pick out an onion?"

On our walk back to his house I pointed out this laundromat. I took a photo and he did too.

I don't know what his photo looks like.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

"You loved a man who treated you like absinthe, half poison and half god."

-Clementine von Radics

Thursday, September 14, 2017

"Do you lose your temper easily? I don’t on the whole, but when I do, I really feel closer to God than at other times."

Franz Kafka

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

"She glows. 
Her heavy strands of black hair slide / Like serpents over somber, blood-red plush. / She stands there as a rose within the night. / The dark-red rose so deep within the night."

Gertrud Kolmar

Saturday, August 19, 2017

“I HAVE A FANTASY DREAM PERSON. He’s a writer—a novelist. He dresses like a writer would, with cozy clothes. And he works out every day. He’s fit. He can walk for miles and he’s not vain. He absolutely adores me. He’s really pleased that I like traveling and gallivanting too. See, he doesn’t like going out; he can’t because he has to write all the time. When I come in at 2 AM and I’m really drunk, he makes sure that I get to bed (he was still up, working of course). He makes sure I have a glass of water and some aspirin. Then when I dream and wake up in the middle of the night, he writes down my dream so I don’t forget it. In the morning, he wakes me up and asks me, “So what happened last night? Did you have a good time?” And I tell him what happened.“

-Tracey Emin

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

"For women who are tied to the moon, love alone is not enough. We insist each day wrap it’s knuckles through our heart strings and pull. The lows, the joy, the poetry. We dance at the edge of a cliff. You have fallen off. So it goes. You will climb up again."

-Letter from Anaïs Nin to Clementine Von Radics

Thursday, August 10, 2017

I won’t budge on wanting love:
human touch: not everything
has to be profitable.

-Jenny Zhang

Detachment as a bold act of self-protection.