The night I found out my brother was dead, I stole a bottle of wine and while I was weeping and drinking I said aloud to myself, “this tastes like shit.” And the little voice in my head said, “I know.”
The next morning I got up and got ready for school because I didn’t know what else to do, and I made myself a cup of coffee and brought it down to my bedroom so I could open my window and smoke a cigarette and let the January cold inside while I drank it, and I said aloud to myself, “this tastes likes shit.” And the little voice in my head said, “I know.”
But that was almost five years ago, now. And I’m older than my brother ever got to be, now. And I still do things that don’t make sense, and I think the little voice in my head is just tired of my shit and has stopped trying to give me direction and purpose.
I like candid pictures I have of people who knew I was taking the picture, who are looking above the lens at me, because it makes me feel like I’ve lovingly captured somebody who was busy loving me.
I like candid pictures I have of people who didn’t know I was taking the picture because sometimes they’re chewing or yawning or looking despondent or perplexed and I’ve captured something that won’t be loved or Like’d by the masses or even the subject but something that is beautiful in a way that only I can see and it makes my stomach churn in the most pleasant way to have record of an awe that no words or photos can share with the general consciousness of other humans and that is such a visceral, magnificent feeling of exclusive and true love.
"Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall." - F. Scott Fitzgerald … Also I just feel obligated to say that no matter how much I whine about the #foreveralone life sometimes, in a lot of ways I’m happy to be alone. I’ve never had to pretend to be pleased with flowers presented to me by a suitor, and anything that comes into my home is because I think it’s lovely and I bought it; I’ve gotten to where I no longer feel lonely when the clerk asks me, "are these for anyone special?" and I have the confidence to just say "myself."
Gramma Bean Head created the most bomb mac n cheese I’ve ever devoured omfg
Foooooood (: and then an 8 hour drive home ): (at Oak Street Cafe)
#mystery #mcm because any boy who lets me take pictures of his tits to send to a guy coming on to me is worthy of being my #mancandymonday for infinity 💛
#bffls Ariel & my head (: