So this is what it’s like to be happy.
That moment when you realize you’re an option, not a priority…
“Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.”
— the road
I guess human isn’t such a bad thing to be after all…
People are strange.
It’s definitely a third eye blind kinda night.
love, or something ignites in my veins
and I pray it never fades.
I don’t know exactly what I mean by that, but I mean it.