Love
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That moment. You know the one I’m talking about. You’ve had them. The moment I said it you instantly thought of one of them. The moments that made you. The moments that broke you. But that moment. You know the one. That one. When you close your eyes and think of it you can remember…
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I find greeting cards dull and unimaginative. They try, they really do try. They do come close to the essence of human emotion. I think, perhaps the real problem is I feel everything too deeply, too sharply, in too much descriptive detail. Anytime I’ve ever bought a card for someone I have to buy one…
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“There is not some exquisite beauty, without some strangeness on the proportion.” – Edgar Allan Poe I always found it odd, call it poetic justice if you will, when a literary quote you’ve carried with you for so long finally clicks into place in your life. I could spin you a tale of my life…
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The words stick in my throat. Heavy. Feeling foreign even though I utter them so freely, so frequently, so loosely daily to many of those who pass by in my life. Fear lingers around every syllable. Fear that saying it makes it real. Fear that they’ll be the next weapon of choice in the never…
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Don’t think with your heart, they tell me, you’ll just end up getting hurt. How, I wonder, am I to think with anything else? What sense is there to be made of the way your hand fits into mine? How am I to make sense of the way your eyes catch mine and I try…