I am desperate to love the L-RD.


This is not to say I desperately love the L-RD.

everybody sees that you're blown apart

lately i cannot live a day without graceland or psalm 23. i cannot leave my brick walls too often from fear of how my fragile inner walls might collapse from attack. the world attacks with its spears and arrows and i am already down. i sit in this mighty fortress on 2nd street and clean and decorate and redecorate and build shelves and chests. and using all these tools makes me feel stronger in the midst of the weakest period of my life.

and what prompts these tears? these inner shakes that leave me curled up silently when no one is home? it is the unpacking of books and memories and riding my bicycle down the streets that used to be home. it is hate. it is reading the old notes and letters that were once the beginning of the rest of my life and then remembering they were all ruined with hate.

how can it be that this is how it ends? how little i planned the last few years, and what a mess i have made.

and so i recite, in the midst of the brink of so many tears that i am always balancing on, 'the L-RD is my shepherd, i shall not want'. i imagine the table he prepares for me as enemies scoff in my ear. i imagine what it might feel like to lie in green pastures, to sit beside quite waters, to fear no evil. because, dear L-RD, i fear the evil i have encountered. i fear it in the hollows of my ribs right down to where a mighty heart once beat.

all that has reduced me to these fragile bones reminds me to hope for the only thing that will satisfy. i need goodness and love to follow me, i need my head to be poured over in oil. i need to be hidden and kept so safe. in fact, i've never felt such a need for safety in my entire life.

one of the most romantic things i've read in a while.

i just love old people, and new york.

http://humansofnewyork.tumblr.com/post/23504830842/ive-photographed-hundreds-of-couples-and-the

sometimes I meet people who seem to have gold woven into them. no matter how buried or hidden, there's gold strands in their hearts. maybe it's best sometimes, not to get too attached or entangled. but rather, admire their glisten and smile. knowing that to appreciate someone for their thoughts and feelings and vulnerabilities is what we're all asking for anyway. and knowing that to kiss them would not be as sweet as to let them bloom. this is what I think about after a perfect night with the newest friends who will be added to the dearest list.

would you be ashamed to sit next to me? how long is your patience? how deep is your love?

what I assumed would be true, is. I am still searching, unsatisfied, yearning. to no fault of ours, we will continue on, desperate to connect, letting each other pass for the good of our own selves, protecting. this is youth, right? struggling in loneliness to find someone who makes us less so. and when it doesn't fit, praise them for their virtues, traits, embellishments, and respectfully say goodnight.

my hands and my fingers keep cracking and peeling.

dorian grey?