There is no rule book for life. There is no rule book for love.
We tell ourselves that love can only be found in people but we forget that no one can make our skin glow more than the moon, no one can hold our attention more than the stars.
I once thought that we should have time each week for nonexistence. A moment to catch our breath and give our insides a bath. A moment to take our souls for a walk.
Maybe darkness is in itself it’s own form of light. Instead of teaching the world to see, it teaches how to feel.
I wonder if souls ever get dirty.
I once had a man ask me if I really needed the coat I was wearing and if I knew the amount of cold my body could actually stand. I think he just wanted my coat.
Have you ever noticed when you’re tired, you’re fingers don’t grip things as tightly as they should? That things slip through them more often than you wish?
I feel as though I am those fingers and life is slipping through me.
“I’m in love with you” he said quietly.
“Augustus,” I said.
“I am,” he said. He was staring at me, and I could see the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”