Signs I've Gone Mad

When I was little I had a fish. I named him Jerry. I also had a turtle named Jerry and a bunny named Jerry. There was a boy at school who I thought was funny and outgoing and I wished I could've been more like him and I had hoped that all my pets would be as funny as Jerry.

The perfect amount of desperation thinly veiled by confident wording.

Your faith in humanity might undermine someone's nature. There's a thin line between freedom and self destruction.

I always wondered what it would be like to meet you all over again. I often worry that my heart may be too big for my own body.

we're drowning in a sea of people trying to push their individuality down our throats too many cults leaders and not enough cults of kind people to wear the same shoes as them. I love the look of lace veils draped over heads, I wish it wasn't saved for weddings

No one loves anyone like I love you. A bunny with light blush and tulle wings

I bring people up to new heights so I expect they do the same for me. People love my presence and when I remove them from my energy you can always tell that there's an emptiness that wasn't there when I was pouring my heart into theirs.

A circular table draped in checkered cloth and candlesticks  and heavy, heavy china and light, light silverware from ages ago. Dim, dim lighting and smoke and chatters flowing throughout the room. I miss when places had their own bowl cheekily little branded matchboxes to grab from the host's podium. I imagine velvet, too, even if it doesn't age well. The presence of spirits in the powder room who've had their breakdowns there before i did. Is there a valet or did another Ferris Bueller asshole take my car to the sunset again?

I paid an intuitive reader for a sign because I was bored on a random Tuesday afternoon. 

I could be at the Noguchi museum or at The Site of Reversible Destiny in Japan, or maybe at some diner with dogshit lighting. In a warm shower that turns hot and burns my skin red. Driving in a car with my parents and my three brothers to go some place new.

Imagine if I was happy and content like a snail mindlessly crawling across a square of a sidewalk before suddenly getting its whole life crushed from above - just like I imagine this ugly alabaster ceiling dropping down onto me without ah intellectual thought to hold onto as I'm crushed.

I look up at the ceiling from the cubicle and into fluorescent lighting and plaster ceilings wondering when it's going to collapse and come crumbling down onto me. How is it that i live this silly little life just to sit in this cubicle thinking of a way out of it?

How much I dream of escaping and faking my death and grabbing you by the hand to come along with me.

my pretentious sanctuary of a home

my husband keeps me sane and i can only hope he feels the same way. 

when bell hooks said: individuals who want to believe that there is no fulfillment in love, that true love does not exist, cling to these assumptions because this despair is actually easier to face than the reality that love is a real fact but is absent from their lives

emmily asked me what kind of fragrances i like and i think i can describe it as light baby powdery scents airy clean, but also romantic. something that a lover would smell like. to me that's somewhere between musky nd like generic brand soap like we laid in bed together after a shower.

Art is Joan Mitchell “Untitled” 1979