I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.
- Vincent van Gogh >
At first, having your hands nestled in mine felt like two stars that were separated by heaven colliding for the first time.
But I realize now that I should have been holding a handle of vodka instead.”
— yours truly
Fact: we are all made of stardust. Maybe that’s why there’s
a certain mystic quality in looking at the distant diamond
sky. We’re all just homesick for a place we
don’t know. We all just long to return home.
Fact: for some time, I had the honor of calling you
“mine.” And for the first time, I felt like
I was finally rooted.
You were home.
And when a hurricane seemed to come, things,
as they do, fell apart. I was an empty home,
searching for anything to fill the void.
Somehow, by filling myself with alcohol and meeting
new people, I came to a conclusion. Even though
I thought that you broke me, enough vodka has
passed my throat and enough smoke has
corrupted my lungs that I’ve finally
realized that I’m free from your ghosts.
— lucky me
— Edvard Munch (via larmoyante)
6-word story #11
(also, a small reminder to those who have forgotten that they do matter)
— ten word poem, i. (via migeru)