aka: i don't necessarily know how to communicate how much I mean it when I say "I love you" "I've been ruminating", as I say frequently when trying to explain something (I've been wishing to curb my habits of self-conscious self-reflexivity, but alas), the idea that love exists as one of the eternal orthodox virtues. This was spurred an attempt of mine to read, comprehend and discuss the content of Michel Foucault's article "What is Criticism?" for the 101-level communications course I tutor. It was through my struggle to do so that I conceptualized notions of love that I propose in this piece. Within a tutorial class I ran, (as a strategy to motivate oneself to study and understand academic material) I proposed a notion of "love" as a practice of understanding and comprehension, based on Jeff Rosenstock's claim that "Love is worry," and the Umineko meta-witchian perspective that "Without love, it can not be se...
sometimes I like to imagine we walked past each other when I was nine, visiting California with my family like in "Fairytale" of Bluey and you just don't remember it sometimes a miracle has to be nurtured plenty of sunlight and tender mercy you are the miracle one the first miracle in a long sequence of little small favors from destiny I woke up with my back sore the odds, the odds, the odds stack up and i come so close to discovering my limits but i remember, what did i come down all this way for? you, you there will always be a part of my heart that you can find home in "Kairi! I'll come home to you, I promise!" "I know you will!" "Hold me, whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on. Regardless of warnings, the future doesn't scare me at all. Nothing's like before."
you've lived this moment over and over for all it's worth like a xerox of a xerox of a xerox you're the sun burning through the epidermal layers of my flesh my tattoo bright and clear like the day i got them you are self-harm scars from ten years ago striping your arm, crying crimson a tongue travels across the length of your limbs like weathered roads slowly, and carefully the end of all things, you will bark like a wounded dog you will whine like a wounded dog you will fall silent like a wounded dog this is where all paths return this is where you must diverge away from any road familiar to me but I would like to dream of marriage for one more night sweet heather-maria, let's recite your rites one last time ... goodnight... and goodbye rain... may we meet again another day Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Lo...
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