It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters. And if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soulmate, because we don’t have genuine souls. It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing mattered, because I’m not a real person and neither is anyone else. I would have done anything to feel real again.”

Excerpt from “Gone Girl”


Her Divine Splendour

I don’t understand how love songs can be slow; because those beats can never match with the pace of your heart beat when you’re in love. People say love is sick because it consists of memories and goodbyes and endings. But so does everything. How can the idea of someone’s absence bring so much pain to you when the amount of happiness you feel erupting out of you in their presence is much greater, and stronger.
Love is momentary – that completeness that engulfs your conscience when you hold them and hug them hard, or in those kisses when just shove your face right into theirs trying to transmit all of that outpouring happiness into them, to tell them how strong it is what you feel in the moment. When even after the kiss is over, you aren’t done. You lean forward and hold them even tighter than before because…

View original post 78 more words