IF YOUR HEART DIDN’T SHATTER INTO A MILLION FRAGMENTS WHEN THAT LAST LINE WAS SAID YOU ARE NOT HUMAN.
I watched this the other week and i started crying my eyes out.
1. I suppose it started before I really began to count each hour on my fingers, but somehow I found myself with numb toes and sleeping eyes in the high stratosphere over Denver, Colorado.
2. Everything I say makes me sound like a country hick. Maybe I shouldn’t say things. Maybe I should say more. Maybe I should stop saying maybe.
3. The lamps were held my big white gloved hands, the kind that little kids glaze over and no one cares about really. Except me. In the hotel bathroom, where I’m positive no one ever barfed of alcohol consumption like my peers are doing in their porcelain thrones on the other side of the country.
4. It does not feel like I am walking in someone’s mouth here. There is no humidity that strikes me as I walk out of doors. My hair can lay on my back without creating a waterfall larger than Niagara Falls.
5. “Mommy, I want that one. With the pretty smile and the crooked shoulders and the glistening sapphire eyes. Mommy, right there. Him.” All I thought of was the boy standing thousands of miles away with pools of olive oil staining his eye sockets.
6. I feel like child sneaking out of my bed to watch the fireworks from the window. Perfect magic spurts like pixie dust above this coastline so foreign and new and beautiful. I am a child.
If you date a man who writes, be prepared.
Prepare for the days and nights he’ll ignore your text messages because he’s right on the brink of the right word. You’ll find him bent over in his chair and his face in his hands. You’ll get the first word out before he shushes…
— Eleanor and Park