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09 May 2016 @ 02:20 pm
reckon love deals us the same  
it’s hard. it’s hard because we don’t have any answers for it. it’s hard because we won’t give it a name. it’s hard because we’re hard, because we make things hard on ourselves, because we never learned that the shortest distance between two points is dropping dead before you’ve acknowledged the existence of death. how much distance might one cover over the course of a day: over rocky terrain, under heavy weather, inundated to the ankles, through the unconcerned air, if one never once leaves the house? that’s what we did, i guess. i guess that’s what we’re doing: declaring this a failure because we never saw fit to make an attempt. so live with that. go ahead. i dare you. it’s hard. it’s so fucking hard. but that’s the way of it. isn’t that always the way?
music: bark psychosis - scum
(Anonymous) on May 11th, 2016 01:35 am (UTC)
If I didn't have such a phobia about needles I would have
"the shortest distance between two points is dropping dead before you've had the chance to acknowledge the existence of death"
tattooed on my forehead

selva oscura: kitsune-tsukianonymousblack on May 11th, 2016 04:33 am (UTC)
don't sweat the needles! t-shirts and reusable die-cut vinyl wall decals available in the lobby.

though seriously, there has been some conversation about t-shirts and possibly prints. possibly as a funding source for my willfully obtuse five hour radio play that drags my mid-life introspection through the bardo thodol. it's a horror story, OF COURSE.