wearemadeofgoodbyes

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

No, we're not soulmates. This is not divine intervention. And this is most certainly not chance. I willed this. I knit the threads of fate myself until they spelled your name.

I love you intentionally. I love you with every bit of conscience I was born with.

— marsadist (via twitter)

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

Vera Pavlova, A Weight on My Back (tr. Steven Seymour)

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

Ama Codjoe, from "The Bluest Nude" [ID'd]

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

— Mahmoud Darwish, Palestinian Poet & Writer

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

“I once read in my physics book that the universe begs to be observed, that energy travels and transfers when people pay attention. Maybe that's what love really boils down to--having someone who cares enough to pay attention so that you're encouraged to travel and transfer, to make your potential energy spark into kinetic energy.”

― Jasmine Warga, My Heart and Other Black Holes

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

— Heather Christle, from “Then We Are in Agreement.”

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

But don't forget who you really are. And I'm not talking about your so-called real name. All names are made up by someone else, even the one your parents gave you. You know who you really are. When you're alone at night, looking up at the stars, or maybe lying in your bed in total darkness, you know that nameless person inside you.

― Louis Sachar, Stanley Yelnats' Survival Guide to Camp Green Lake

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

“You're asking me what I want for breakfast and I'm telling you about how when the worst thing happened, I didn't even cry. You're handing me a receipt from the laundromat down the street and I'm passing you a bundle of letters that I wrote to God when I was fourteen and scared. You're passing me the milk after you drip it into your coffee and I'm half laughing about the psychiatrist's office and how there's actually a couch and it's made of blue tweed. You're trying to do the normal things and I am throwing up dull pieces of truth onto our kitchen table. I can't lie anymore. These are the things I've done and they're mostly sad. These are the places I've been and they're mostly awful. This life has woven itself into the notches of my spine and I hear it creak every time I stand.”

— Fortesa Latifi; Dull Pieces Of Truth

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1944–1947

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

—The Art of Life, Helen Garner.

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

From Waiting for This Story to End Before I Begin Another by Jan Heller Levi (via hush-syrup)

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

Ilya Kaminsky, from "Dancing in Odessa"

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks 1964-1980

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

okay hear me out... a collab between these two icons

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

My arms are so full of my love for you that I haven't been able to hold onto anything else since we met.

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

“I will place my hand in that flame and feel nothing.”

— Franz Wright, from God’s Silence: Poems; “Reparations,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[wearemadeofgoodbyes]

“Find me a house where no one can ever come. I like talking to you, but to no one else in the whole world.”

— Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Lytton Strachey wr. c. September 1925