If We Are Friends Ill Probably Hold Your Hand

If we are friends I’ll probably hold your hand

the maze runner aesthetics | tst girls

‘Hey, Clark, tell me something good.’ 

I told him a story of two people. Two people who shouldn’t have met, and who didn’t like each other much when they did, but who found they were the only two people in the world who could possibly have understood each other. And I told him of the adventures they had, the places they had gone, and the things I had seen that I had never expected to. I conjured for him electric skies and iridescent seas and evenings full of laughter and silly jokes. I drew a world for him, a world far from a Swiss industrial estate, a world in which he was still somehow the person he had wanted to be. I drew the world he had created for me, full of wonder and possibility. 

‘It has been the best six months of my entire life.’ 

‘Funnily enough, Clark, mine too.’

i want so many pictures taken of me. i want pictures of me writing in journals. i want pictures of me reading. i want pics of me watching the sky and i want pictures of me being excited. i want pictures of me jumping up and down after hearing the best news ever and i want pictures of me having to fix my glasses. i want pictures of me with my hair being blown everywhere because of the wind and i want pictures of me so blurry that im not even sure what im doing in them. i want photos of me sitting on my bed with my phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other whilst laughing the hardest i’ve ever laughed. i want pictures of me looking out windows and pictures of me sitting on the floor with paint all over my hands in nothing but a long flannel. i want pictures of me running in all types of directions in fields. i want pictures of my facial expression the second someone calls my name. i want pictures of me dancing and jamming to music and i want photos of me when im in deep thought. i want pictures of me when im a mess and sobbing on the floor. i jus want so many pics of me doing things bc i wanna know what kind of person everyone else sees. i want to capture every raw moment.

New York Rocker, Sept/Oct - 1977