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“When dealing with myself I am powerless.”
― Letters to Felice
― Letters to Felice
“I’m stuck here in a cycle and I am getting older but I am not growing up and my heart is getting soft dark spots on it like a fruit that has gone bad or is soft because too many hands have squeezed it but then put it back down not because I am not ready but because they were not ready for my type of fruity flesh. I felt so ripe and sweet—what was off? The truth is, I was forcing myself into people’s mouths. I jumped out of their hands and into their mouths and I yelled EAT ME way before they even had a chance to get hungry and notice me and lift me up.”
― Little Weirds
― Little Weirds
“and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?”
―
―
“What we love, we mention."
"Then I must love you because I mention you all the time.”
―
"Then I must love you because I mention you all the time.”
―
“You’re asking me what I want for breakfast and I’m telling you
about how when the worst thing happened, I didn’t even cry.
You’re handing me a receipt from the laundromat down the street
and I’m passing you a bundle of letters that I wrote to God when
I was fourteen and scared. You’re passing me the milk after you drip it into your
coffee and I’m half laughing about the psychiatrist’s office and how there’s
actually a couch and it’s made of blue tweed. You’re trying to do the normal things
and I am throwing up dull pieces of truth onto our kitchen table. I can’t lie anymore.
These are the things I’ve done and they’re mostly sad. These are the places I’ve been
and they’re mostly awful. This life has woven itself into the notches of my spine
and I hear it creak every time I stand.”
―
about how when the worst thing happened, I didn’t even cry.
You’re handing me a receipt from the laundromat down the street
and I’m passing you a bundle of letters that I wrote to God when
I was fourteen and scared. You’re passing me the milk after you drip it into your
coffee and I’m half laughing about the psychiatrist’s office and how there’s
actually a couch and it’s made of blue tweed. You’re trying to do the normal things
and I am throwing up dull pieces of truth onto our kitchen table. I can’t lie anymore.
These are the things I’ve done and they’re mostly sad. These are the places I’ve been
and they’re mostly awful. This life has woven itself into the notches of my spine
and I hear it creak every time I stand.”
―
Nourhan’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Nourhan’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
1,735 books
|
637 friends
1,696 books
|
4,939 friends
43 books
|
17 friends
760 books
|
157 friends
2,040 books
|
273 friends
216 books
|
8 friends
703 books
|
251 friends
69 books
|
10 friends
More friends…
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by Nourhan
Lists liked by Nourhan
