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arthurflecksgirl · 4 years

Text

Joker saving a girl from bad guys

This one was requested by hausofbaloons on twitter. I hope you will like it :)

Warnings: Violence and sexual harassement (not graphic but still)

I couldnt sleep. This town wouldnt let me close my eyes.

The sound of the traffic, the traffic lights before my windows. It was all too much. Gotham was so noisy yet so dead when you took a closer look to it.

I didnt even knew what got me here. All I knew was that I couldn`t afford my old apartment in my hometown anymore, so I moved in this very bad neighborhood close to Anderson Ave.

Finding a new job here was difficult,too. I was lucky enough to find one that at least would make enough money to pay the rent. The place was called HAHas. They rent party clowns. I didnt even knew anything about clownery, how they called it. I lied when I told Mr Hoyt that I have experience and hoped he wouldn`t notice. Not until I found a "real" job. I really didn`t wanted to end up as a clown.

They said it would take them a few days to get some clown clothes that would fit a girl. Which made me nervous. It seemed like I would be the only girl working there. But for the moment I just had to eccept this situation. Some day I would hopefully get back on my feet.

Watching out the window made me feel disconnected to the world. Its funny how a new place can change your point of view about so many things. Some places consume you in such an short amount of time. That`s how I felt about this town since the day I unpacked my things and slept in my new bedroom for the first time. Everything felt...wrong. It felt wrong being here, sleeping here, existing in general felt like a chore. Amd looking at these people out on the streets, they must feel the same. My eyes were focused on a little girl with her mother. How aweful it must be to raise your kid here. To grow up here. I just wanted to leave already.

I drank the last sip of my tea and got dressed. Deep down I knew it wasnt a good idea to go out at 10 pm in the evening. At least not here in Gotham, I´ve heard that some alleys are really dangerous to walk through. But I didnt knew which ones, so I tried to avoid all of them. Which wasnt possible all of the time. I left the house, freezing a bit. It was colder outside than I thought. At least the radiator was working. All these streets looked the same. I didnt even knew where to go, just wanted some fresh air, get this tiredness out of my bones.

I wish I had something to be passionate about again. Passion was something I seemed to have lost somewhere along the way. Some days I felt like a robot, only functioning for others. I did things but I havent FELT them for years. It makes a huge difference if you just keep on doing things or if you really feel them. I wasnt sure what made me stop feeling myself anymore. It just happened. Failed relationships, friends you lose along the way, working,... all these kinda things that consume you, leaving nothing left but the shell of you. I guess this town would`t help.

Walking this neighborhood felt lonely, even while being surrownded by people. But at the same time there was proof that I wasnt the only lifeless zombie in this universe. There were other robots, just like me. The walking dead. Shouldn`t this make it hurt less? Shouldn`t this be comforting?

I was so lost in my thoughts I didnt even payed attention to where I was heading to. Most streets still remained unfamiliar to me. I hestitated when I realized that I didn`t knew where I was anymore. All this garbage, the bad smell. I felt something on my foot and screamed. A rat. The biggest rat I have ever seen in my life. This place was aweful. I really had to go and find some place nicer a few blocks away from here. The sun went down hours ago, everything started to look the same. I felt tired. Insomnia really had me in its arms.

Whispers. In the corners of the streets. On the sidewalks. I wanst sure if my mind was only playing tricks with me. Being alone in a city like this, at 9 pm in the afternoon could do that to you. I should have stayed home in my bed. The bed that didnt felt like mine anymore.

The whispers got louder and I was convinced that it wasnt my mind playing around as I satrted to hear steps behind me "Hey doll ! Where are you heading?"

The voice of a young man and another one laughing right behind me. I felt fear crawling up my insides. I didnt even had any with me to defense myself. I grabbed my keys, so I could scratch them with it if they would attack me. My hand was shaking while I reached down in my pockets.

"Hey, baby. Stop. We are talking to you!"

I didnt knew what to do. Should I run? Should I stop, trying to calm them down by acting friendly? My hand so close around my keys I hurt myself. It was already too late to run away, one of them grabbed me by the arm. So firm I couldnt move it to use the keys anymore. That was it. Only some weeks in Gotham city and I was already dead. I should have known better.

"Take her stuff!" the other one yelled. He sounded obvously drunk. "I will" he hurt my arm again "But... I think there is even more we could do besides taking her stuff..." he grabbed my bag, hew it to the other guy and pushed me against the wall, violently. With his alcoholic breath. I felt my eyes watering. "Don`t cry baby doll. i`m sure you`re gonna like it". The other one was laughing, while he took my money and cards. "Oh, you can have her. I already made out with the other girl an hour before" more laughter. "Good" he yelled into my face "More left for me". Hands on my chest. Hands everywhere as he started to pull up my shirt. A whimper. it was mine. I started crying. "Stop crying you stupid bitch!" I tried to stop but i couldnt.

And suddenly a shot fell. And another one.

I still felt his firm hands around my arm as he hesitated to take a look around. thats when I saw the other guy lying face down on the ground. Blood tripping from his body. He wasnt moving anymore. "What the fuck?" he let go of me, running to his buddy.

Thats when I looked the other way.

There was someone standing inthe alley with us. It was dark but I still could make out the color of his suit. It was red. And he was holding a gun in his left hand. He came closer as the guy who wanted to rape me was yelling at the dead body on the ground.

His face was painted like a clown. A red nose, a big smile and blue around his eyes. His hair was slick back, slightly curly and green, almost reaching down his shoulders. He looked intimitating. But for some reason I wasn`t afraid of him.

"Are you okay?" the clown came up to me,touching my shoulder very carefully."Yeah...I guess I am".

I was still in shock. I just witnessed murder. This guy just shot someone in front of my eyes. He walked up slowly to the other guy.

"You shot my best friend!" the guy yelled.

"Get up!" the clown said

The guy was getting up. It felt like watching a slow motion scene.

"He didnt deserved to live. He was about to watch you raping her."

"So what? Maybe I can`t have her today. But there is always a tomorrow."

The man in the red suit took a step towards him

"You think so, huh?"

"Of course" the drunk guy said, looking at me with his hungry eyes "I would make her scream and..."

Another shot.

And after that. Nothing but silence and his gentle hand upon my shoulder again "They can`t hurt you anymore". He lit himself a cigarette, sucking the smoke in like nothing just happened. The two dead bodies lying in front of us.

"Thank you for saving me from these guys...but....you just SHOT them !" my voice cracked.

He blew the smoke out "I know. They would have found another victim. These kinda guys never stop." He pulled my shirt down. It was still up from all the grabbing. "I just hope you`re okay. You`re shaking." There was somthing so comforting in his voice. I felt so torn between being shocked and being reliefed that someone saved me from what was about to happen.

"I`m still... in shock I guess. He tried to..."

"I know. Thats why I took care of it. People can be aweful. Especially here in Gotham city. You should even be out here on the streets alone".

His eyes pierced me. It was hard to not be attracted to him. Maybe it was the shock. I flt like a compleate freak, feeling save talking to someone who just shot two guys in an dark alley while waring clown make up. He obviously wasnt a cop or something. He must have been some kind of criminal himself. I shouldn`t even keep talking to him. "Do you live far from here?" he grabbed my stuff that was still lying on the ground, made sure to collect it all together and handed it to me "Sorry for the blood on it." There was something so careless about him, after mudering two men. And yet he seemed to care so much about if i`m okay. I wondered if it was the first time that he killed someone.

I took my purse and the rest of my things "Um....no not that far. Maybe a 30 minutes walk. But I just moved here and lost track of the streets. It was so dark and I`m not sure how to find back home anymore."

He threw the last bit of his cig aon the ground "I could walk you home if you want. Which street is it?"

I didnt wanted to tell him my exact adress "Near Anderson ave".

"You`re kidding, right? I lived in Anderson ave all my life. I mean...I still do actually". He put the gun back in his pocket.

"Oh so you know the way back?"

"Sure"

I thought about this for a minute. Wasn`t this insane?

"Look, you don`t have to. I can go now" he said "I just wanna let you know that I wouldnt ever hurt you. i just killed those guys because they wanted to do bad things to you and they also said they would do it again. Its okay if you don`t trust me. Just let me know if I should walk you home. I dont mind eighter way."

His voice was so soft. I couldnt stop staring at the way he was using his hands while talking . They seemed to floath through the air. The way he moved was graceful. His slender body in the red suit makde me feel something. I was just very drawn to this stranger.And even though he did something bad. He only did it to save me. I decited to let him walk me home.

"No. I belive you. You can walk me home"

"Great" it almost looked like he was dancing as he turned around, smirking.

I was walking right next to him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure!"

"Why are you wearing clown make up?" i pointed at his face.

"I used to work as a party clown"

"Really?"

"yeah"

"Thats funny. I just got a new job here at Haha`s. "

His face immediately darkened. Did I said something wrong.

"At Haha`s, huh?"

I didnt dared to say answer. His face expression changed in between seconds.

"I know that place."

"Do you.... work there too?

"Not anymore"

I nooded. this subject didnt seemed to be a good choice for conversation. So I remained silent. He didnt said anything anymore eighter. Everything about this felt weird but being around him was indeed very exciting.

"So this alley leads to Anderson ave" as we arrived at my block.

"Oh, I know the way from here. I don`t know how to thank you..."

He smiled. It was more of a smirk really. Behind all the make up. I was wondering how he would look like without the face paint. His facial expression was so interesting. Still intense behind all of this clown make up.

"No need to thank me" he said while his eyes kept piercing me. I wasnt sure how I should say goodbye to the one that just saved me. Maybe my life even. So I just offered him a hug. he leaned towards me and let me hug him. His hands oddly lying on my back, barely touching me. He seemed kinda shy, which was very surprising. For a brief moment I felt his cheek on mine. I even felt the softness of the white face paint upon my skin. Shivers running down my spine. I coulnt help it. Feeling him letting go of our hug almost hurted me. What was happening?

"So, since you dont live far from here, maybe I´ll see you around?"

He reached down his pocket, pulled out a pen,a piece of paper and started writing "Here is my number. I mean, just in case someone is bothering you again. Or following you. Just call me when something feels wrong."

A card is falling out of his pocket. He pickes it up, looking at it for a little bit too long. I couldnt tell what it said but it must have been something important to him. He seemed nervous as he put it back "Not this one." he mumbled.

I once again told him how thankful I was before we said our goodbyes.

Heading back ome after all of this felt surreal. Did that really happen? I turned around and he was still standing there, lightening another cig.

I looked at the piece of paper he gave to me.

Arthur.

That was his name.

A beautiful name.

Just as beautiful as he was.

As soon as I got home, I hoped into bed. Once again I wasnt tired. How could I`ve been tired after this? I was more awake than ever. That face. I put his number on my bedside table, lying on my back. i just coulnt stop thinking about how his bare face might have looked like. Would I even be able to notice him on the streets without his costume and make up? His green eyes and the smirk haunted me all night long. Arthur. He forgot to put his last name on it. Or was that onpurpose. Eighter way I had his number.

And then out of the sudden I realized that I haven`t thought about the fact that he might get caught and locked up for killing two strangers on the sidewalk. Panic was spreading inside of me like a tumor. If he would get caught it would be my fault. He killed them to save my life. I could have never forgiven myself that.

My heart told me I should get up, grab the phone and call him. Asking him how he would try to not being caught. If there was any plan or... This was ridicilous. What could I possibly say to him? I guess he was aware of what he just did. I started sweating and opened my window. More noises of people yelling at each other. What an aweful city. He seemed like the only nice person I have met since I moved here. With his face and voice in my mind, I was finally able to FEEl something again. The sensation of having strong emotions was something I thought I lost. And all of the sudden I imagined this stranger in my mind. Someone I knew nothing about. But he made me feel something. It was like awakening from a long, dark sleep. Maybe my heart wasn´t dead yet. Maybe there was a spark left inside of me. And he lit it. Not only because he saved me. It was his presence. The way he looked right though me. His cheek against mine. Those hands. Images of fresh memories started to floath my mind and I enjoyed it. I finally enjoyed something again. It was like I felt my own heart beating in my chest. I havent felt that for years. Sometimes I didnt even knew if it was still beating anymore. And now it was so loud. A competition to the traffic outside.

And after hours of thinking about him I finally fell asleep to the sound of the traffic.

Red painted lips.

A fake smile covering a real smile.

I put one figer on his upper lip. I can feel a scar.

Pressing it softly, before his face comes closer.

He leans in before I feel the softest kiss upon my lips.

I woke up, rubbing my eyes, realizing that I just dreamed about kissing this total stranger. He really managed to get into my mind. I still felt his lips on mine. I thought about his hands. I took a close look to them when he was holding the gun. They looked so gentle. I caught myself thinking about how it would feel to be touched by those hands. To hold them.

I got up, made a coffe and got dressed. I had to go to the pharmacy to get some sleeping pills. I just couldnt do this anymore. Lying awake all night drained the life out of me.

Gotham looked the same way at daylight as it looked at night. Just as dark and depressing. Hopefully the sleeping pills would help me find some rest again.

After I arrived the pharmacist asked me if I had experience with sleeping pills and told me about all the side effects. i just wanted to get out of ther for gods sake. Two minutes laer she was still taking to me, not even realizing I wansnt listening anymore, someone else entered the room. I was glad because she was alone there and had to serve the other costumer now. But she still kept talking.

Suddenly a voice from behind interrupted her "No, the other ones are actually better. And you can get them without a recipe,too."

"Excurse me?" the lady said "The ones on the left" a tiney looking man with brown curls was coming up to us. He pointed at the meds, looking at me "Belive me. You want those. Not the ones on the right. They will give you bad nightmares."

"Oh. Okay thank you, Mr." I looked at the pharmacist "So, I want those, please" she gave me a look and told me how much they were. I payed, taking another look to the man beside me, as he put different receipes on the counter.

There was something about his facial features. His eyes. Those piercing eyes.

The lady gave him an annoyed look "As usual, Mr. Fleck?"

"Yeah"

"Alright. Give me a minute to get them"

He nodded.

His hands.

"Arthur?" I wasnt sure if I was out of my mind but he reminded me of the clown who saved me last night.

He immediately faced me when I said his name. IT WAS HIM.

"Yes?"

"Its you right? You were the..... " I whispered "The clown that saved me last night"

He smiled in a very shy way, he lowered his voice "I was".

That feeling. There is was again. I didnt knew what was happening to me. I just fell for this man. His bare face even more beautiful than I imagined.

The sales woman came back, handing him out three bottles of meds. He hesitated to put them into his pocket, like he was afraid I might get a closer look to it. I finally took my sleeping pills,too. Still staring at him.

"I thought about you last night" saying the words out loud I just realized how it sounded like "I mean...not like that. Oh my god this is embarrassing. I`m sorry."

You don`t have to be embarrassed.. what was your name again?"

"I`m Y/N"

"Hi Y/N!" he offered me his hand. HIS HAND! The one I dreamed about last nicht. Fantasized about being touched by it. His skin was even softer in reality. We got out of the pharmacy together, standing in the middle of the crowded streets.

"Arthur, I have to thank you once again and I was woried about you. Umm..You can imagin why. "

His arms hung down on him in a weird way. A body languare so differently from last night. So shy, intimidated even. By what? By me?

"Don`t worry about me Y/N. I always get back on my feet."

"Yeah well " my heart was racing in my chest while looking at him "You were the only one here that was ever nice and taking notice since I moved here. I`m always alone since I`m a citizen of Gotham city"

He lit a cig "I can imagin. I`m alone since the day I was born"

Why would he say that?I noticed how sad his eyes were, behind his stare, behind the piercing look of his green eyes, there was so much sadness. I had a better look into them now in the daylight. His beautiful face looked kinda tired. Tired of life.

I knew that feeling. I wanted it to fade from his face. I wanted his eyes to light up. And I wanted to be the reason for that.

"Arthur, do you want to go out with me? Like... for a coffee?"

His hand started to shake a little "You mean like a date?"

"Um..." I felt myself blushing "I dont know....if you want it to be one."

He smiled "If YOU want it to be one."

We headed to the next coffee shop, not saying a word as our hands touched slightly ,but our smiles said it all.

Maybe we both were alone.

But now it was time to be alone together.

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garbagequeer · 5 years

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hey hello im writing a piece for laptop ensemble that involves sampling and i need the most repressed/tender/yearning quotes you got. just as gay and heart wrenching as you can. but also no pressure I know youre a stranger on the web I just feel like you post that kind of stuff a lot thank you bye

hope this isnt like too late school keeps me busy :( (also can you put a read more on asks? guess i’ll find out). i ended up choosing many quotes from the same texts cause im indecisive as shit but i’ll bold my favorites from those in case that makes it easier for you!

anyways first of all you can never go wrong w richard siken as obvious as that is. these are both from you are jeff

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.

Let’s say you’ve swallowed a bad thing and now it’s got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you’re happy anyway, and that’s okay, it’s a love story

this one’s from planet of love (the format got fucked bc tumblr is not actually a finctional website but :/ )

I have a megaphone and you play along, because you want to die for love, you always have. Imagine this:You’re pulling the car over. Somebody’s waiting. You’re going to die in your best friend’s arms. And you play along because it’s funny, because it’s written down,you’ve memorized it,

from litany in which certain things are crossed out

I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you’re really there.Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live? Let me do it right for once,

sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known.You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I sayor love me back.

We were inside the train car when I started to cry. You were crying too, smiling and crying in a way that made meeven more hysterical. You said I could have anything I wanted, but I just couldn’t say it out loud.Actually, you said Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s terrifying. No one will ever want to sleep with you.

from snow and dirty rain

I had a dream about you. We were in the gold roomwhere everyone finally gets what they want.

that scene from when harry met sally where sally says:

One day I was taking Alice’s little girl fro the afternoon. I’d promised to take her to the circus, and we were in a cab playing “I spy” - you know, “I spy a lamppost”, “I spy a mailbox” - and she looked out the window and there was this man and this woman with two little kids, and the man had one of the kids on his shoulders, and Alice’s little girl said “I spy a family”, and I satrted crying, you know? I just started crying, and I went home

(like anyone else sometimes cries when u see a family doing something nice? is it because i want to participate in a sense of family of my own but have been excluded as a gay person from it’s portrayals and it makes me go :^( cause i dont feel there’s room for me there but i want there to be and i just have to long for this nuclear family heteronormative way of life that i’ve been made to believe is idylic? is it because my parents got divorced and my dad’s an ass and my mom is just a very angry lady and i want to re-do my own childhood? who knows. should we ban movies? yes we should!)

from maurice (ultimate source of tender)

“There was something better in life than this rubbish, if only he could get to it, love, nobility, big spaces where passion clasped peace, spaces no science could reach, but they existed for ever, full of woods some of them, and arched with majestic sky and a friend”

‘Did you ever dream you had a friend, Alec? Nothing else but just “my friend”, he trying to help you and you him. A friend’ he repeated, sentimental suddenly. ‘Someone to last your whole life and you his. I suppose such a thing can’t really happen outside sleep’

we are all so lucky i don’t actually own maurice in english this would just turn into me quoting the whole book

ee cummings voices to voices, lip to lip

the thing perhaps isto eat flowers and not to be afraid.

from virgina woolf’s letters to vita

7 september 1925

january 21 1926 vita writes

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this—But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it …

and on january 26 virginia writes back

Your letter from Trieste came this morning—But why do you think I don’t feel, or that I make phrases? ‘Lovely phrases’ you say which rob things of reality. Just the opposite. Always, always, always I try to say what I feel. Will you then believe that after you went last Tuesday—exactly a week ago—out I went into the slums of Bloomsbury, to find a barrel organ. But it did not make me cheerful … And ever since, nothing important has happened—Somehow its dull and damp. I have been dull; I have missed you. I do miss you. I shall miss you. And if you don’t believe it, you’re a longeared owl and ass. Lovely phrases? …

from virginia’s diary, about vita on december 21 1925

I like her and being with her and the splendour–she shines in the grocer’s shop in Sevenoaks with a candle lit radiance, stalking on legs like beech trees, pink glowing, grape clustered, pearl hung.

from virginia woolf’s to the light house

What device for becoming, like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the same, one with the object one adored? Could the body achieve, or the mind, subtly mingling in the intricate passages of the brain? or the heart? Could loving, as people called it, make her and Mrs Ramsay one? for it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge, she had thought, leaning her head on Mrs Ramsay’s knee. Nothing happened. Nothing! Nothing! as she leant her head against Mrs Ramsay’s knee. And yet, she knew knowledge and wisdom were stored up in Mrs Ramsay’s heart.

Love had a thousand shapes. There might be lovers whose gift it was to choose out the elements of things and place them together and so, giving them a wholeness not theirs in life, make of some scene, or meeting of people (all now gone and separate), one of those globed compacted things over which thought lingers, and love plays.

there forced themselves upon her other things, her own inadequacy, her insignificance, keeping house for her father off the Brompton Road, and had much ado to control her impulse to fling herself (thank Heaven she had always resisted so far) at Mrs Ramsay’s knee and say to her—but what could one say to her? “I’m in love with you?” No, that was not true. “I’m in love with this all,” waving her hand at the hedge, at the house, at the children. It was absurd, it was impossible

(fun fact: the spanish translation adds something that i’d translate as “one could not say what one meant / what one wanted to say”, which i really like and i was disapointed to find out isnt on the english edition)

It was love, she thought, pretending to move her canvas, distilled and filtered; love that never attempted to clutch its object; but, like the love which mathematicians bear their symbols, or poets their phrases, was meant to be spread over the world and become part of the human gain. So it was indeed. The world by all means should have shared it

from the great gatsby

I didn’t want to go to the city. I wasn’t worth a decent stroke of work but it was more than that—I didn’t want to leave Gatsby. I missed that train, and then another, before I could get myself away (…) Just before I reached the hedge I remembered something and turned around. ‘They’re a rotten crowd,’ I shouted across the lawn. ‘You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.’ I’ve always been glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever gave him

from kafka’s diaries

may 27 1911: Today is your birthday, but I am not even sending you the usual book, for it would be only pretence; at bottom I am after all not in position to give you a book. I am writing only because it is so necessary for me today to be near you for a moment

parts from a from a letter he wrote to oskar pollak on february 4 1902

When we talk together the words are hard; we tread over them as if they were rough pavement. The most delicate things acquire awkward feet and we can’t help it. We’re almost in each other’s way; I bump into you and you - I don’t dare and you. When we come to things that are not exactly cobblestones or the Kunstwart, we suddenly see that we are in masquerade, acting with angular faces (especially me, I admit), and then we become sad and bored. Does anyone make you as bored as I do?

then I fall silent and you fall silent and you become bored, and I become bored and it’s all like a stupid hangover and there’s no use lifting a hand. But neither wants to say this to the other, out of shame or fear or - You see, we are afraid of each other, or I am.

Of course I understand it. It’s boring to stand for years in front of an ugly wall and it just won’t crumble away. Of course, but the wall is afraid for itself, fro the garden (if there is one), and you get out of sorts, yawn, have headaches, don’t know where to turn

You often talk with her, not only for the sake of talking. You walk around with her somewhere here or there, or in Roztok, and i sit at my desk at home. You talk with her, and in the middle of a sentence somebody jumps up and makes a bow. That is me with my untrimmed words and angular faces. That lasts only a moment, and then you go on talking. I sit at my desk at home and yawn. I’ve been trhough it already. Wouldn’t that separate us? Is that so strange? Are we enemies? I am very fond of you

from his leters to milena

Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.

jane wong. from clearing

We want to believe everything has meaning.Plums blossom over a power grid

and I am in love again. The shame of it.

from leslie harrison’s [sirens]

I’m not Penelope married to faith married to waitingbound in fine soft strands of silk dyed and stretchedin my world longing has teeth and fins has a tastefor blood longing is a room built entirely of knives

Lorde’s melodrama tour interlude

Don’t you wish you could go inside a heart, see the strings and atrium’s, everything beating and bleeding. It’s kind of funny, I spend almost every minute thinking about love. Being guided, and divided by love. But I’ve never seen it. It’s just a rumour, a comedown, an afterglow. I wanna see it, in colour. In the summer, I can almost picture it

from Andrea Long Chu’s on liking women

One day, you tell yourself, it will give you what you want. Then, one day, it doesn’t. Now it dawns on you that your object will probably never give you what you want. But this is not what’s disappointing, not really. What’s disappointing is what happens next: nothing. You keep your object. You continue to follow it around, stash it in a drawer, water it, tweet at it. It still doesn’t give you what you want—but you knew that. You have had another realization: not getting what you want has very little to do with wanting it. Knowing better usually doesn’t make it better. You don’t want something because wanting it will lead to getting it. You want it because you want it

ada limón, In a Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me

But love is impossible and it goes ondespite the impossible. You’re the muscleI cut from the bone and still the boneremembers, still it wants (so much, it wants)the flesh back, the real thing,if only to rail against it, if onlyto argue and fight, if only to missa solve-able absence.

i dont think i need to get into mitski songs because you probably already know but basically pink in the night/come into the water/once more to see you/in happy when she says if you’re going take the train so i can hear it rumble one last rumble/in i want you from the first verse to the first time she goes “i just need a quiet place where i can scream how i love you” (YES the card thing is very important)/the first verse of i will (w emphasis on everything you feel is good i f you wold only let you)/abbey/strawberry blond

sufjan steven’s futile devices obviously predatory wasp of the palisades you know the drill

was going to find some twin fantasy lyrics but i started thinking about famous prophets (minds) and like. emotionally left my body so. i wont be thinking about it or any other songs anymore it makes me too crazy

from frances ha

It’s that thing when you’re with someone and you love them and they know it and they love you and you know it but it’s a party and you’re both talking to other people and you’re laughing and shining and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes. But not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual, but because that is your person in this life and it’s funny and sad but only because this life will end and it’s this secret world that exists right there. In public. Unnoticed. That no one else knows about. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us but we don’t have the ability to perceive them. That’s what I want out of a relationship. Or just life, I guess.

from ellen lee’s notes on twin fantasy that i revisit constantly

there’s no going back to deliver these words to the ones they were really meant for. That’s how heartbreak feels, I guess. It feels like your heart in between the teeth of someone who’s looking away. When you’ve lost your loved object, what happens to all the things you have to say to them? When they’re turned away, what happens to all the things that you couldn’t, but desperately need(ed) to, say to their face? He dissociates himself from his own romance until it becomes a fantasy. You have your bleeding heart, you have a finite set of memories — when nothing new enters and you’re unwilling to let go, then you have a fantasy. The loved object enters into you and transforms.

the journey home by dermot bolger(havent read this at all dont really plan to/dont know a thing about it either i just came across this shit like 2 years ago and i still think about it)

I wanted to hurt him; I wanted just to touch him. What I wanted I’m not really sure. If he had stopped and opened his arms I would have walked towards him; I would have sat on the kerb all night with him

adam b, sweet i have a (really gay) heart

i feel like my body is the extension of a lake. i feel really badabout not telling you the truth, sometimes. i feelreally small next to you. tall boys remind me of bean stalks.i wish i had your legs. i wish i could know your handsbefore i even touch them

aaaand i think that’s all i could think of and track down, hope this is actually helpful and not too long (i am indecisive no kidding). also ksjdfg it’s nice that you thought to ask me this and i did have fun going over all these quotes so thank you 💖💖💖

#answered #i hope this fits what you were looking for!!#and i hope read mores are working on mobile djfgk #c #thing #Anonymous

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