oscar wilde
and he sat at the oncologist waiting room as life dimmed outside
“you’re never more alive than when you’re almost dead”
tim o’brien
ohh she’s pretty with the sunset in her hair
“i feel so sad. i feel so abandoned. i feel very alone”“we’re all alone, reva.”
-my year of rest & relaxation
turtle neck sweaters and steaming mugs of coffee and overcast clouds and leaves of red and yellow and orange and glossy doc martens and red lipstick stains on necks and pinkie promises and crunching strolls on new york city sidewalks
“we must not always talk in the market-place of what happens to us in the forest,”
“I read it, and I wished I had not, because my view of the world was so much darker afterward,”
paris, france 🥀
« ainsi va le monde. ce n’est pas am faute »
« we all had some coffee. after that i don’t know any more. the night passed. » - the stranger
this is what being alive is. a sticky menu between you and me in a cramped booth by a black window.
xxii | she/her | psychology & creative writing | desperately searching for meaning in the mundane
33 posts