One night recently Quentin and I were sleeping and I woke up suddenly convinced that I was about to have a heart attack. My left arm was numb and tingly and I grew nauseous trying to figure out what my next step would be. I did this in silence, panicking, and careful not to wake my sleeping boyfriend. Why is it the case that I would have rather suffered in silence?
+ other ideas about laying next to a lover while dying.
It may have been that
at one time life was simple.
I did not have you.
I have days. I have Days and I have days. I have Days when my free-will and desire overshadow any reservations I have about being alive. And then I have days when the chill of the new Fall air embraces me in melancholy as if urging me - albeit lovingly - to simply accept the coming of a dead season.
It is absolutely necessary that you start taking better care of yourself.
She kept TALKING and would not stop TALKING and giggling at me and I was just trying to think and so much noise and I came home and SO MUCH NOISE even the quiet was unbearably loud and the rooms were spinning all around and I put my peaceful music on but it did not help so I just put my hands over my ears and thought about how nobody would hire me if they ever saw me like this
i want to scare people with their own bodies/////move it in ways they could have never imagined/////something eating them up from the inside