She brought your name up. Now I wonder if you’re alive and if you’re happy and shiz I shouldn’t be worried about.


I am drunk right now and wondering, what are the gaps in between life? The gaps between peoples lives, I mean. There’s some sort of space between people and the lives they live and their thoughts and their feelings and the person next to them. Who’s next to me? No one, or maybe I just can’t see…

"It’s all right if we keep forgetting the way home.
It’s all right if we don’t remember when we were born.
It’s all right if we write the same poem over and over."