I have done so many amazing things, met so many amazing people, been to so many amazing places, have seen so many beautiful things, and changed so unbelievably much. And still, here we are.
Would still be an infinite loop even if you land on “Change Something.”
I kissed you a year ago today. You, the one that changed it all; the one I’ll gladly change all the things for.
“I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor or naval uniforms. I never want to be away from you again, except at work, in the restroom or when one of us is at a movie the other does not want to see.” - Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters.
Hemingway. Salinger. Plath. Kerouac. Bukowski.
I guess I’m way more emotional than I thought. (And I think Vonnegut, being the sad man that he is, should be closer to heart.)
(Source: ilovecharts)
It’s easy to have delusions of grandeur when you live in L.A. or New York or some other city where people go to get discovered. But when you’re all alone in someone’s former pantry in Minden, Nevada, counting their boxes of crackers and you realize you’re standing in a bowl of wet cat food, there’s no pretending you aren’t doing exactly what you’re doing.
There wasn’t a precise moment when it finally occurred to me that no one was coming to discover me, that unfortunately that would be up to me. Like most epiphanies, it probably came as a small succession of insignificant moments.
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It all looked so romantic: a handsome hunk in wingtips and a fedora, dashing about with a sultry siren, caught up in a confused time of violence and passion. It’s the way most of the world has come to remember Bonnie and Clyde.
When Bonnie and Clyde met, they were both immediately smitten. Clyde asked Bonnie to join him because he was in love. She remained a loyal companion to him because she was in love. They carried out their crime spree and awaited their violent deaths because they were in love. They let all hell broke loose and didn’t give a damn, because they were together. And well, they were in love.
Four years and four months later, Bonnie and Clyde met their own bloody fate, ambushed by a posse of six lawmen sworn to bring down Dallas’ most infamous outlaws. There were 167 bullet holes left in the couple’s stolen Ford V8, 25 bullets on each of their body, one bullet snapping Clyde’s spinal column. It was said that because of these gunshots, it has gotten so difficult to embalm their bodies because they wouldn’t contain the embalming fluid.
Did you know that Bonnie Parker was born in October? And while she was smoking cigars, holding guns, and robbing banks, she also wrote poems?
“Some day they’ll go down together / they’ll bury them side by side / To few it’ll be grief, / to the law a relief / but it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde,” she once wrote.
Why do I know all about this?
I always wished for a Clyde Barrow to my Bonnie Parker. Not just a partner in crime, but a love story meant for the psychopaths, a tortured wartime love, a living history.
I could never have that now.
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I long for so many things I know I could not have. I wish for things I am not meant to own. I look at you and see memories I want to possess but cannot hold.
We have a list of what we call a future memory. The truth is I have imagined everything, already had it written on my mind until the end of my life. Everyday I look for things that match, hoping to cross a checklist of sentences. Meeting you was a fulfillment, I wrote about you six months before I met you.
I cannot claim people, things, or places. I cannot call anything ours as long as it changes. One thing is sure: I’ll wake up everyday wanting to cross a thing on the list.
Let’s make more, better memories.
