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Whoever said it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all was probably an asshole who never lost anything they actually loved.
When you see some racist shit going down, you speak the fuck up. Your words will mean something…and so will your silence.”
Being in the presence of monsters is okay as long as you don’t think too much about what they’re capable of. The scarier thing is when you realize what you’re capable of yourself.
Viewed from the border itself, the conflict is not between two countries; it’s an argument between neighbors that occupy the same land but don’t share the same privileges, and it’s an argument often policed by people who don’t even live anywhere near that neighborhood.
“There are things in this world that have no explanation,” Don Vázquez said, pulling my eyes from the creature. “When you come across these things, you have two options. Option one is to try to make things make sense. This is what most people do. They experience something and they try to mold the event to their experiences, to understand what happened using the filter of what they already know. This never works. It only leads to confusion and frustration, yes? The second option is to accept that strange things happen, that the impossible sometimes is real. When you accept it, you can move on
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“The strongest flowers are those that grow between the cracks, my friend,”
I blinked. Tears rolled down my face. My chest bounced once, twice—an animal caught in a trap. I put the phone down and grabbed my face. The tears kept coming. My lungs refused to work properly. I looked for the anger. It was a refuge. I couldn’t find it.
I wanted to laugh at something, at anything. I wanted everything I’d had and lost.
The past is the present trapped in a perpetual echo. The present is just an amalgamation of everything that preceded it, molded together with memory. The future is the floating unknown that shifts between nothing and possibility, between death and new beginnings, between uncertainty and hope. We are the knowing, insignificant fragments of flesh trapped in the space between all three, aware that every sentence we start is made up of a silent half waiting in the future and whatever we just said already an irretrievable chunk of the past.
Something brings the fucked citizens of the world together. Suffering makes us family.
It was a stupid thing to say, but something about staring death in the face and walking away decimates the number of fucks you have left to give.
Sadness and pain are yours to treat as you wish; forget about them for a while and everything will be fine for the duration of your amnesia. But they always return. Mine came back with a vengeance, the events of the last two days acting like a magnifying glass for the sun of my aching.
The bullet burrowed into Brian’s head right above his left eye. A dark dot appeared. A minuscule period to end the sentence of his life. It was no bigger than a quarter, and the universe fit in it.
