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I really did try to organize myself beforehand, to tidy up my thoughts before speaking, before opening my mouth. I’d spend the entire week rehearsing my part of the act, my part of the dialogue.
Not only thoughts came to the surface, but also, mixed in with my words, a load of clustering and stuttering that made me look stupid, like somebody else, someone I didn’t recognize.
Things get lost between my head and my mouth—somewhere unknown to me—and they never come back. I’m stuck. I can’t reach those things anymore, you know? Not even just to feel them.
it’s like I’m stupid. Not in my head, but whenever I open my mouth, the same nagging tone always comes out. And things don’t evolve. There I am, trying to break through, and I only manage to scratch the surface. How many times have I been here, exactly? I don’t learn. I don’t remember things, I can’t draw connections, and most of the time, I don’t even understand what I’ve said myself.”
I would’ve deep dived into my own hell to reach the other, brighter end of my life, the warm center of the person I wanted to be. “So long as it’s not death,”
she answered with a pinch on the shoulder. My shoulder wasn’t hurt, but my feelings sure were, so I went to my room to cry.
I’m like an object, you know? Untethered from the world, identifying with nothing, floating alone through the vast void and its infinite possibilities.
My eyes are dark, narrow alleyways and I can’t see beyond that wall or corner.
I used to have friends. I don’t have many left. You disappear and hope people will stay there, in the world, for you.
He was incarnated by the Holy Spirit, in the bosom of the Virgin Mary. In His Mother’s bosom, hallelujah! This is the point I wanted to get to, and this is where I will stop. Because after this there is only ruin. After the bosom came man. And then our Lord Jesus was crucified, killed, buried. The bosom is a symbol of faith, a symbol of love, a symbol of devotion, a symbol of care.
Wait... Brighton Rock & Ida's descriptions suddenly make so much sense
