"Here is the girl who tried to change you.
Loved you despite yourself. Treated your body
like a box she could put her longing into
for safekeeping until someone more worthy
— Clementine von Radics, excerpt from “Love Letters From The Photographs In The Shoe Box Under my Bed”
"Why is there so much denial, self-denial, in your hearts? So little destiny in your eyes?"
— Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols
"I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me.
That you are a child playing with matches and I
have a paper body. You will meet a girl with a
softer voice and stronger arms. She will not have
violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes
that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and
I’ll go back to spending Friday nights with boys
who never learn my last name.
I have chased off every fool who has tried to sleep
beside me. You think it’s romantic to fuck the girl
who writes poems about you. You think I’ll understand
your sadness because I live inside my own. But I
will show up at your door at 2 a.m. wild-eyed and
sleepless, asking to find some semblance of peace
in your breastbone, and you will not let me in.
You will tell me to go home."
— Clementine von Radics, “Paper Heart”
people tire me out. i tire myself out.