Status Updates From Alone With You in the Ether

whatever you are made of, charlotte regan, i am made of it too.

it’s about sharing things—experiences, feelings. art is something we do to feel human, not because we are.

I fear this writing is too smart for me. I’m attempting to persevere

that to love a person was to forfeit the need to place limits on them, and therefore to love was to exist in a constant, paralyzing threat.

last part 💔💔💔

every time you love, pieces of you break off and get replaced by something you steal from someone else.

so this is what it is to love something you cannot control, he thought. it felt precisely like terror.

so when people say we’re alone in the ether…?
alone in everything. in time and space, in existence, in religion.

if this is what it is to burn, he thought, then i will be worth more as scattered ash than any of my unscathed pieces.

i want you to say everything, anything. i want to have your thoughts, i want to bottle them, i want to put them in my drawer for safekeeping.

he liked her best when she was saying, with a twist of her fingers, you are already mine.

he doesn’t want to be the person she hides from, he wants to be the person she hides with.

love is a story, that’s all, until she fights with him for the first time. the first time they fight, she knows she loves him because she has never been worth the fight before.

time is made of her.

i don’t see anything to fix.

it frustrated him immensely that he would never be able to prove that time didn’t stop when she met his eye.

i am more addicted to the thought of your name on my tongue than i am to any other form of vice.