And also, there are so many times when you need to make a quick escape, but humans don't have their own wings, or not yet, anyway, so what about a birdseed shirt?
And also, there are so many times when you need to make a quick escape, but humans don't have their own wings, or not yet, anyway, so what about a birdseed shirt?
Flea-Market vendors are frozen mid-haggle. Middle-aged women are frozen in the middle of their lives. The gavels of frozen judges are frozen between guilt and innocence. On the ground are the crystals of the frozen first breaths of babies, and those of the last gasps of the dying.
I have so much to say to you. I want to begin at the beginning, because that is what you deserve. I want to tell you everything, without leaving out a single detail. But where is the beginning? And what is everything?
I thought about all of the things that everyone ever says to each other, and how everyone is going to die, whether it's in a millisecond, or days, or months, or 76.5 years, if you were just born. Everything that's born has to die, which means our lives are like skyscrapers. The smoke rises at different speeds, but they're all on fire, and we're all trapped.
I wish my days could be washed away like the chalk lines of my days.
Just because you're an atheist doesn't mean you wouldn't love for things to have reasons for why they are.
So many people enter and leave your life! Hundreds of thousands of people! You have to keep the door open so they can come in! But it also means you have to let them go!
Things were happening around us, but nothing was happening between us.
Your dad didn't die, so I won't be able to explain it to you.
And here I am, instead of there. I'm sitting in this library, thousands of miles from my life, writing another letter I know I won't be able to send, no matter how hard I try and how much I want to. How did that boy making love behind that shed become this man writing this letter at this table?
He promised us that everything would be okay. I was a child, but I knew that everything would not be okay. That did not make my father a liar. It made him my father.
I hope you never love anything as much as I love you.
I thought for a minute, and then I got heavy, heavy boots.
I'd left behind a thousand tons of marble, I could have released sculptures, I could have released myself from the marble of myself. I'd experienced joy, but not nearly enough, could there be enough?
Literature was the only religion her father practiced, when a book fell on the floor he kissed it, when he was done with a book he tried to give it away to someone who would love it.
Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.
We could imagine all sorts of universes unlike this one, but this is the one that happened.
Another reason it would be a good invention is that there are so many times when you know you're feeling a lot of something, but you don't know what the something is.
His voice was handsome and broken, like a cobblestone street.
I hope you never think about anything as much as I think about you.
I thought maybe if she could express herself rather than suffer herself, if she had a way to relieve the burden, she lived for nothing more than living, with nothing to get inspired by, to care for, to call her own, she helped out at the store, then came home and sat in her big chair and stared at her magazines, not at them but through them, she let the dust accumulate on her shoulders.
I'd lost count of the disappointments.
Maybe I'll try to be more patient with morons.
Sometimes I wonder if she knows, I wonder in my Nothingest moments if she's testing me, if she types nonsense all day long, or types nothing at all, just to see what I'll do in response, she wants to know if I love her, that's all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there, like new batteries in the flashlight in the emergency kit in the hall closet.
We looked at each other until it felt like everything would burst into flames
Anyone who believes that a second is faster than a decade did not live life.
Humans are the only animal that blushes, laughs, has religion, wages war, and kisses with lips. So in a way, the more you kiss with lips, the more human you are. And the more you wage war.
I know a lot about birds and bees, but I don't know very much about the birds and the bees. Everything I do know I had to teach myself on the Internet, because I don't have anyone to ask. For example, I know that you give someone a blowjob by putting your penis in their mouth.
I tried the key in all the doors, even though he said he didn't recognize it. It's not that I didn't trust him, becuase I did. It's that at the end of my search I wanted to be able to say: I don't know how I could have tried harder.
If it had and answer, it wouldn't really be love, would it?
Mr. Black started singing a song in some weird language, which I guess was Philippinish.
Sometimes one simply wants to disappear.
We need much bigger pockets I thought as I lay in my bed counting off the seven minutes that it takes a normal person to fall asleep. We need enormous pockets pockets big enough for our families and our friends and even the people who aren't on our lists people we've never met but still want to protect. We need pockets for borough and for cities a pocket that could hold the universe.
As for the bracelet Mom wore to the funeral, what I did was I converted Dad's last voice message into Morse code, and I used sky-blue beads for silence, maroon beads for breaks between letters, violet beads for breaks between words, and long and short pieces of string between the beads for long and short beeps, which are actually called blips, I think, or something. Dad would have known.
I am willing to be annoying if that's what was necessary.
I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.
I tried to think about other things. I tried to invent optimistic inventions. But the pessimistic ones were extremely loud.
If it weren't my life, I wouldn't have believed it.
My boots were so heavy that I was glad there was a column beneath us. How could such a lonely person have been living so close to me my whole life? If I had known, I would have gone up to keep him company.
Sometimes people who seem good end up being not as good as you might have hoped, you know?
We spent our lives making livings.
Because it was starting to get dark, and because the streets were crowded, I bumped into a googolplex people. Who were they? Where were they going? What were they looking for? I wanted to hear their heartbeats, and I wanted them to hear mine.
I believed him. I was not stupid. I was his wife.
I missed you even when I was with you. That's been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing.
I try not to remember the life that I didn't want to lose but lost and have to remember
In the end I was the clay and she was the sculptor, I thought, it's a shame that we have to live, but it's a tragedy that we get to live only one life, because if I'd had two lives, I would have spent one of them with her.
My dream went all the way back to the beginning. The rain rose into the clouds, and the animals descended the ramp.
Songs are as sad as the listener.
We talked about nothing in particular, but it felt like we were talking about the most important things...
Being reliable is something. Being good.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories