I was right here. I didn’t go anywhere. I was right here. I was right here the whole time. None of you could see me. Nobody could see me.
When we die we turn into stories. And every time someone tells one of those stories, it’s like we’re still here for them. We’re all stories in the end.
There’s no without. I am not gone. I’m scattered into so many pieces, sprinkled on your life like new snow.
Ghosts are guilt, ghosts are secrets, ghosts are regrets and failings. But most times, most times a ghost is a wish.
Fear is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. But so, it seems, is love. Love is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. We yield to it or we fight it, but we cannot meet it halfway. Without it, we cannot continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality.
People f*** up. I guess you don’t get that, you don’t really get it until you f*** up. Really f*** up.
Use your cup of stars. Insist on your cup of stars. Once they’ve trapped you into being like everyone else, you’ll never see your cup of stars again.[to Nell]