Love Is The Only Thing That Exists

Thought Catalog

I’ve had a preoccupation lately — especially when walking down the street listening to piano music — with imagining what it would be like to get shot in the chest. There’d be a jolt of impact, a hard jab that knocks the wind out of you. Then I’d drop to my knees, and everything surreal — people running and screaming, maybe a siren, or maybe no one notices at all, just a bird floats overhead in an ordinary sky on an ordinary sunny day. There’d be blood, and then I’d lie down and go to sleep.

I’ve also had a preoccupation — especially on these cold, still nights after a warm day, when spring waits for tomorrow – with thinking about love.

I’ve tried to dismiss it — clunky, overly-emotional collocation; cheap and melodramatic feeling. But I can’t. When I think about loving someone, I think about dying. I think…

View original post 213 more words


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s