“And I do love you. And you are awfully interesting. And I want to protect you from all pains and terrors.”
— Iris Murdoch, from “The Philosopher's Pupil.”
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Why do I feel like whenever I try to explain, words fail me?
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"I loved her against reason, against promise,against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be."
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“nauseatingly miserable beyond repair” — with kafka’s heart-wrenching yet resonating quote, i once again fell in love with words, after the year long depression which left me in an abyss of hopelessness and misanthropy.
words. purely words. the words that bled through papers, as the heart of the writer bleeds without a momentary pause. the words that put one’s unique story and often, battles into tangible descriptions.
until peace and comfort tape all the shattered pieces of me together, i will, perhaps, continue to tell the world i am not yet defeated while floatation on this constantly storm-strucking ocean is possible.
— 29th january 2024; a monday evening with occasional suffocations.
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I find myself staring at the seeds I planted
Wondering,
Will you ever grow for me?
Will you ever bloom?
What is it you need?
I swear,
Right now I will fetch it
But please
Don’t say the word time
Asli Hersi
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as loud as a siren defecating itself, there are voices howling in the depths of night, yearning to be stars of their own. despite having eyes that have perceived millions of big-budget films, they have only been able to get on the box-office disaster ones.
windows are opened while the drapes sway in the ferocious wind. bent knees, folded legs underneath its body and the nostalgic memory of a time when a pipe dream had once been a hope. an outraged conscience, who now appears to be experiencing severe night terrors, cries out, “where did all go?”
It was intense, like a scene from a film, as they plead in the middle of the night as if there were gods and goddesses to be pleaded to. no performer, not even the blockbuster ones, can comprehend the stoic pain and awful regrets of the lost soul. the uninitiated would have no idea what it would be like to be on a ship that was sinking without a lifeboat or anyone to run to.
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"I LOVE YOU" , he finally said. And then, they closed her coffin.
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He had not touched me. He did not need to. His presence had affected me in such a way that I felt as if he had caressed me for a long time.
— Anaïs Nin, from “Delta of Venus.”
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Do you ever sit with your classmates/coworkers and while they're chatting about something a huge wave of " I don't belong here " hits you and you just go silent and you start feeling the distance between you and them and now it's like you're watching them through a big screen and all the voices in your head screams " can I ever just be like them "
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More from Pincers on my Substack. <3
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If I cannot love wholeheartedly, I will not love at all.
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