Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I could have cried over it. I did. Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table.
I spent my life learning to feel less.
Every day I felt less.
Is that growing old? Or is it something worse?
You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.” —Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer (via dontcallmemargaret)
Oma (Nana): Do you have a boyfriend?
Oma: Do you have anyone in mind to be your boyfriend?
Me: Uh. No.
Oma: And do you ever think about getting married someday soon?
Me: No. I’m 18.
Oma: What about children?
Me, (in head): FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
I went to write a brief post about how I think the elderly ghost in The Canterville Ghost (by Oscar Wilde) had sex with the young girl Virginia during the temporal gap, and how shocking it would have been for Wilde’s period. Three paragraphs of analysis/rant later I realised none of my followers actually care, so I deleted it. Just wanted to let you all know what a CRAZAY fellow that Mr Wilde was and that you should all read his works cuz they r radd so liek yeh.
”Far away beyond the pine woods,’ he answered, in a low dreamy voice, ‘there is a little garden. There the grass grows long and deep, there are the great white stars of the hemlock flower, there the nightingale sings all night long. All night long he sings, and the cold, crystal moon looks down, and the yew-tree spreads out its giant arms over the sleepers.’
Virginia’s eyes grew dim with tears, and she hid her face in her hands.
‘You mean the Garden of Death,’ she whispered.
‘Yes, Death. Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace. You can help me. You can open for me the portals of Death’s house, for Love is always with you, and Love is stronger than Death is.”
- The Canterville Ghost,