alina

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” 
— Friedrich Nietzsche

I saw someone

In the airport. 

all the things i do not know about love –

the proper ways to hold someone through the storm, what to say

when a snake has shed its rippling skin and silence with it,

I wonder what kind of mind lies behind those big brown eyes

behind her laugh, of which makes the sweetest souls swoon, 

behind her smile, infectious and sugar sweet. 

yet through it all, 

note: this is not targeted at anyone, it’s just my opinion :)

Writing is my pulse,  
my breath,  
my way of being.  
They don’t own my words,  
my thoughts,  
my voice.  

I hate having genuine friends. I hate feeling connection.  I hate how comfortable I feel. I hate how I feel like it’s okay stupid around them.  I hate that I know I’m being genuine around them.