I fall in love with the people who hurt me more deeply.
I figure, no one else knows me better.
Gerrit Henry, from “The Confessions of Gerrit II,” in The American Poetry Review (Vol. 36, No. 6, November/December 2007)


Maybe if I disappeared for a while and didn’t talk to anybody, then it wouldn’t be possible for me to ruin anything.

I’m losing everyone.

It’s 1 am and let me tell you what a perfect hour it is to miss you so much it physically hurts my chest.
― Mitch Welling, Flatsound - via prisonofself (via perfect)