“Sometimes this really seems to shock people. They appear genuinely upset when I say ‘this conversation is over’ or ‘I’m actually not interested in debating this with you.’ There’s an expectation that if you care about social justice and political issues, you’re always ‘on.’ You’re always ready to debate, you’re always ready to have theoretical discussions about your own lived experiences and the issues you care about, you’re always ready to defend yourself. That’s manifestly ridiculous and unjust, an expectation that’s simply not reasonable.”
“Self-definition has been a responsibility I’ve wholeheartedly taken on as mine. It’s never a duty one should outsource. Of this responsibility, writer and poet Audre Lorde said, “If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.” Self-definition and self-determination is about the many varied decisions that we make to compose and journey toward ourselves, about the audacity and strength to proclaim, create, and evolve into who we know ourselves to be. It’s okay if your personal definition is in a constant state of flux as you navigate the world.”
“This is the history of love.
This is both of us in the Sahara and I
get the last sip of water,
kiss damp lips on to you for you
to survive by. This is stale movie popcorn
because we spent too long learning
each other’s twists under the light of
a plotline flashing away in front of us.
This is choosing to see other people.
This is seeing you in other people.
This is a night holy, a night true,
tears and all, broken radiator and
cheap wine and hands to hold but
none to keep you here.
This is the history of fuck you for
making me soft, for making me maleable,
for doing more than just testing my waters,
fuck you for making the oceans of me
feel so puddle at the sight of you.
This is the history of my mattress,
that has seen more mistakes
than I am sober enough to remember.
This is another man’s neck
and your name whispered against it.
This is not forgetting. This is trying to.
This is not enough ways to give up
as I thought there would be, only the one
with your caller ID and a hangover.
This is the history of love.
This is a rare thing, a history
written by one who did not win.”
“You don’t get it. I barely understood it. I crave the kind of partner that will tell me when I’m wrong. Someone who will take the time to say to me ‘This is going to be a sucky conversation because it’s going to be uncomfortable but if I don’t tell you, I can’t be certain anyone will and I want you to grow continuously into a superb human being.’ Do you get it? Don’t you want someone who wants you to keep growing?”
She is not “my girl.”
She belongs to herself, and to all of the world. And I am blessed, for with all her freedom, she still comes back to me, moment-to-moment, day-by-day, and night-by-night.
How much more blessed can I be?
— Avraham Chaim, Thoughts after The Alchemist (via avraham-chaim
“Did the tea-time of your soul
Make you long for wilder days
Did you never let Jack Kerouac
Wash over you in waves?”
“People always talk about how hard it can be to remember things - where they left their keys, or the name of an acquaintance - but no one ever talks about how much effort we put into forgetting. I am exhausted from the effort to forget… There are things that have to be forgotten if you want to go on living.”
— Stephen Carpenter, Killer