i am Flower

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In the end, one experiences only oneself […] and what could still come to me now that was not mine already? What returns, what finally comes home to me, is my own self and what of myself has long been in strange lands and scattered among all things and accidents.

— Thus Spoke Zarathustra


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ece era   shower  

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Ada, I’ve been through a lot. I’ve wasted a lot of things. Myself, life, everything. I won’t get improved. I’m living with a virus in my veins. I don’t want to be a part of anybody’s life. And i don’t want anybody to be a part of my life. This is me. This is who i was, this is who i’m going to be. There is no reason for this, so don’t look for any. I wish there was, I wish I knew that reason and could change it. But I want you to know this: You were the most beautiful thing in my life. Do not forget that.


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universalugly:

Union Square L, Ana Velasco


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Even in my lucid dreams I can’t have you.


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Today I saw you by a wall fucking a redhead who was wearing tight blue jeans. First you grabbed her ass then you unzipped her pants and started to finger her. I was waiting for the lights to cross the street and disappear from you. You weren’t seeing me though, I was a ghost. Of course I was a ghost. You filled her emptiness by the wall. Then it was time for me to go. So I walked away.

I saw you on the street today and asked you the directions. I was friendly and you noticed that. Perhaps thats why you decided to keep on talking. We went to a bar together, and you told me about your never-ending travels. I laughed with you a lot, but you didn’t. Its okay - there was not much connection. At least you weren’t faking it or acting like a prince charming to then fool me. Your intentions were clear. Regardless I wanted to get your number and leave shortly after because the night was young. When I told you I had to go, you took a step back, then another, then… You said “Okay. Nice to meet you.” and turned away. I watched you walk away.

I saw you talking to a girl with red lips right outside a bar. You were asking her questions. She seemed to be happy to talk about herself. You were curious about the color of her panties. I walked past you, and you disappeared.

You walked past me today with a few friends. All of you were loud, screaming, declining the silence of the night and the purple sky. Rebellion against things you don’t understand.

I felt a drop. Then it drizzled. The best part of fall is rain. I wear my plain white shirt and skinny pants, let the wild rain smoothen my heart, fill me with nostalgia and poetry. I walked by the train station, sat down, took a sip from my cheap coffee warming my palms, closed my eyes, listened to the train pass bringing the silence back again… I thought of Berlin, Paris, Florence. I felt the air. I felt the presence of strangers I walked past that left me remembering the cities.

I was hiding somewhere near the station by the trees. Sitting on top of a rock.

You weren’t seeing it. None of it. None of this thing… This. Whatever this is, was, will be. Me and this weather, this sky… I felt alone. Sad. My tears joined the rain. But that doesn’t mean much, does it?

Then I came home to you, to my dearest friend. My partner in ridicule beauty. I wanted to go to a forest with you where we both become infinite contemplating. When I walked in I looked at you. I froze. But you weren’t there, were you?


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No. You are intelligent in a way that disarms me.


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I had a thought for no one’s but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we’d grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.

— W.B. Yeats


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R