There are many Hells. I sincerely wish you the best, even if you are consumed by them. Even being able to look over your shoulder and see that you are no longer where you were is a blessing. I have crossed the threshold of one hell, and into another, and another, sometimes in the eye of more than one at once. The borders aren’t always clear. Sometimes a wall of fire separates you from Hell and salvation. Sometimes you have to char the skin to pass on. Sometimes the end isn’t clear, thinking you’ve made it through when you are interrupted by intermittent patches of burning coal at your feet. Sometimes Hell is just a grey sky.
We are all living for the tiny oasis between fields of smoldering rock. We are all living for the triumphant shard of light stabbing through a black sky.
When you’ve been through hell, heaven isn’t a place. Heaven is being any distance away from hell.
i wanna date someone who likes aphex twin, rothko, sociopolitically aligns with me, and has just as much shit to get done as i do.
drunk in love came on the radio and i lifted myself up, hovering and pelvic thrusting in the air over my seat, moving my arms around and i almost crashed my car because i was pushing the accelerator down on accident.
I’m trying to be more positive about my experiences in Paris. I was there for two weeks and I got an amazing deal on a room in someone’s flat, but I was eating lots of bread (I don’t eat wheat) which made me super depressed and lethargic. I had just gone through a breakup the day before I left and I was in Paris essentially alone. Contrary to popular belief it is not the romantic utopia many see it as. It’s like a lot of American cities, sort of angry, volatile, and lonely. Not to say I’m not grateful, it was good for me to go, I grew a lot. Still, it was actually a pretty sad vacation. It would have been better perhaps, if I went with a person or people. The museums were really cool though.