To Be So Lonely You Told Yourself You Liked To Be This Way & Almost Believed It Was True.

“To be so lonely you told yourself you liked to be this way & almost believed it was true.”

— Natalie Wee, from ‘(Suicide Letter In) Parts, 2010′, Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines

‘A long time ago i was desperately in love’

Margaret Atwood, from True Stories: Poems; "True Romances," originally published in 1981

I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you. What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.—My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.

Emily Brontë, Wuthering heights

I am a hopeless romantic. Special emphasis on HOPELESS, but a romantic nonetheless!

I'd cut my hands on a paring knife if it meant he'd be happy and full of sliced persimmons. I'd happily bleed for him and wouldn't even care, so long as he's okay.

And what I really intended to say in the end remains unsaid.

Franz Kafka