February 2012
64 posts
2 tags
They were in high country.
Clean, high, unpolluted country. Quiet country. Complex country, mountains growing out of hills, valleys dropping from mountains and then sharply climbing to higher mountains. It was country far from war, rich and peaceful country with trees and thick grass, no people and no villages and no lowland drudgery. Lush, shaggy country: huge palms and banana trees,...
The Things I Meant
officialiwrotethisforyou:
A heart was meant to beat. And air was meant to be breathed, close to your ear. And your skin was meant to remember what mine felt like. And some songs were meant to play on repeat. And the sun was meant to come down. And we were meant to ignore it when it woke up. And days were meant to pass. And nights were meant to follow. And your eyes were meant to cry out...
mahpiohanzia
dictionaryofobscuresorrows:
n. the disappointment of being unable to fly, unable to stretch out your arms and vault into the air, having finally shrugged off the ballast of your own weight and ignited the fuel tank of unfulfilled desires you’ve been storing up since before you were born.
2 tags
xeno
dictionaryofobscuresorrows:
n. the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers—a flirtatious glance, a sympathetic nod, a shared laugh about some odd coincidence—moments that are fleeting and random but still contain powerful emotional nutrients that can alleviate the symptoms of feeling alone.
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“Blue-lipped and dinner-plate-eyed, they watched, mesmerized by something that they sensed but didn’t understand: the absence of caprice in what the policemen did. The abyss where anger should have been. The sober, steady brutality, the economy of it all. They were opening a bottle. Or shutting a tap. Cracking an egg to make an omelette. The twins were too young to know that these...
1 tag
2 tags
The Defect At The Heart Factory
officialiwrotethisforyou:
There is no heart you can have that another heart will not have a problem with.
1 tag
So our school has this Lit Mag, and I have something I kind of want to submit, but at the same time, I don’t want to, since then I’d have to be there while they evaluated it, as I’m an editor, and I don’t want to have to see their reactions/hear their immediate comments, which wouldn’t be tactful if it sucked, because they wouldn’t know it was me. I wish there...
