all a bore

When I love, I love so big.
It is true.
But when things change, as they do, it’s totally fucking devastating.
Still, that process of life shifting and earthquakes and glaciers and tides and rain falling—that process doesn’t negate what existed before.
I mean, does it?
Love is beautiful and painful and terrifying and insane. It possesses me fully and incapacitates me completely.
Maybe I should love differently.
I really don’t know.
The fact that things fall apart can’t possibly take away from what was once beautiful, right? 
If anything, it does just the opposite.
That’s a hard thing to accept.
I want the good feelings to last forever and the bad feelings to go on and disappear.
But life is all about ambiguity—complexity—not good or bad, but everything in between.
I think I’m still like twelve years old in a lot of aspects.
Anyway, like with everything, I guess it’s not some external thing that’s the problem.
I mean, it’s me.
I’m the fucking problem.
Christ.


Eu acho que as pessoas que fumam imaginam que o cigarro faz passar uma ansiedade que porventura elas sintam. "Preciso fumar", "Preciso de um cigarro", "Meus cigarros acabaram". Mas no fim é ele que gera essa ansiedade - "Preciso fumar", "Preciso de um cigarro". É por isso que chamam de vício.
Maybe I should love differently.
not good or bad, but everything in between
Se 'eu tentei expressar, mas achei tudo uma chatice', ele fez isso por nós. Pro resto da vida no meu pedestal de dois livros.