“two people who were once very close canwithout blameor grand betrayalbecome strangers.perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.”

“I’m not sad, but the boys who are looking for sad girls always find me. I’m not a girl anymore and I’m not sad anymore. You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say ‘Wow, isn't he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’ You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I’ll swallow you whole.”

“You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say ‘Wow, isn’t he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’ You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I’ll swallow you whole.”

“the year of letting go, of understanding loss. grace. of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’. the year of humanity/humility. when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed. everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing ‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’. the year i broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands. the year i learnt small talk. and how to smile at strangers. the year i understood that i am my best when i reach out and ask ‘do you want to be my friend?’. the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness. honey honey. the year of being alone, and learning how much i like it. the year of hugging people i don’t know, because i want to know them. the year i made peace and love, right here.”

“i give myself five days to forget you.on the first day i rust.on the second i wilt.on the third day i sit with friends but i think about your tongue.i clean my room on the fourth day. i clean my body on the fourth day.i try to replace your scent on the fourth day. the fifth day, i adorn myself like the mouth of an inmate.a wedding singer dressed in borrowed gold.the midas of cheap metal.tinsel in the middle of summer.crevice glitter, two days after the party.i glow the way unwanted things do,a neon sign that reads;come, i still taste like someone else’s mouth.”

“We blame you for floodsfor the flush of bloodfor men who are also wolvesand even though you could pullthe tide in by its hairwe tell people that we walked allover youwe blame you for the nightfor the darkfor the ghostsyou cold unimaginable thingfollowing us home,we use youto see each others frailnaked bodies beneath your blue light,we let you watch; youswollen against the glassbreath a halo of steamas we move against one anotherwet and desperatelike fish undera waterlogged sky.”

“you were like an ulcer on the inside of my cheek that my tongue could not stop touching.loving you was like watching a stranger clean a week old wound; i felt sick, but i wanted more.”