sad and well on the way to drunk…
August 2012
58 posts
July 2012
62 posts
“Of all the ways we have found to hurt ourselves, the worst has been through love. We are always suffering because of someone who doesn’t love us, or someone who has left us, or someone who won’t leave us.”
—Paulo Coelho (via larmoyante)
who closed at 11 last night, accidentally set off the alarm, miraculously remembered the code to turn it off, and then had to sit and wait for 10 minutes in fear and embarrassment to see if the cops were going to show up?
not me. i heard, from that sad person, the police did not come after all.
on an unrelated note, i could not sleep more than a couple hours last night.
went to a staff meeting yesterday. had an 18 year old, out of nowhere, in front of others, tell me that i looked “fresh to death.”
immediately contemplated suicide.
afraid, not scared.
what i’m taking for anxiety works, for the most part, but man, does it fuck up my stomach.
i don’t know if i can stick with this that much longer. there’s not too many times in the day i can excuse myself to go be nauseous in a corner.
“All I’d ever wanted was to forget. But even when I thought I had, pieces had kept emerging, like bits of wood floating up to the surface that only hint at the shipwreck below. Because that is what happens when you try to run from the past. It doesn’t just catch up: it overtakes, blotting out the future, the landscape, the very sky, until there is no path left except that which leads through it, the only one that can ever get you home.”
—Sarah Dessen, Just Listen (via larmoyante)
no sweeping exits or offstage lines, could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind.
bahahaha.
today is a day that i planned to get shit done. there are about 5 things i should just take care of.
naturally i’m on tumblr and feeling like a nap is on the horizon.
“and i dealt with this years ago
i took a hammer to every memento
but image on image like beads on a rosary
pulled through my head as the music takes hold
and the sickener hits, i can work till i break
but i love the bones of you, that i will never escape.” —
i took a hammer to every memento
but image on image like beads on a rosary
pulled through my head as the music takes hold
and the sickener hits, i can work till i break
but i love the bones of you, that i will never escape.” —
“I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.”
—Libba Bray, A Great and Terrible Beauty (via larmoyante)
