eventually it will break your heart.

bury your maps, they'll find all your pots and pans; cross all your hands, one finger at a time.
you'll be found in a land of savages, maybe you don't know what you've got.
husk to hide and i know, you're not spending your money on a desert rose
- holy dances and acronyms for bones

- holy dances, beach house

[weheartit]

it's tangible, this silence

white-brick-wall solid.

sickening sickness,
spreading quietly
white-noise explosion
of white-brick-wall shards
alone. lonely.
alone. lonely.
beckoning. bickering.
beckoning. bickering.
disease. demise.
white-brick-wall solid.

every now and then i would feel a violent stab of loneliness. the very water i drink, the very air i breathe, would feel like

long sharp needles. the pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. i
would hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o clock in the morning.

haruki murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

and when it's raining on the avenue, a wind will blow me back to you

take all your medicine, it's gonna make you well. you'll have to run till it's over
i'm sure you'll be able to tell, you'll know it's over for the rest of your life
you're gonna be high. come home. it's something less than a holiday,
when you come home.

-home, the great northern

[witheredbones]

does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of.
i never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent. i never thought about things at all, everything changed.
the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn’t the world,
it wasn’t the bombs and burning buildings. it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go.
is ignorance bliss? i don’t know, but it’s painful to think. and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me?
to what great place did thinking ever bring me? i think and think and think.
i’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.

extremely loud and incredibly close, Jonathan Safran Foer