I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning of everything.
I hadn’t known that a light could be a feeling and a sound could be a color and a kiss could be both a question and an answer. And that heaven could be the ocean or a person or this moment or something else entirely.
It’s a form of self-destruction…I invite toxic people into my life thinking I can soothe their pain, they pour their hatred and problems right into my open soul…yes, you’re fucking welcome, tear me apart, save yourself. The best form of self-obliteration, becoming a container for someone else’s grief.