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"Of course I searched for her. It's only when you've lost someone, you realize the nonsense of that phrase 'it's a small world'. It isn't. It's a vast, devouring world, especially if you're alone. But to think that the world is harmless is to lie to yourself, to believe in so-called certainties that are, in fact, simply shared delusions. When she left, all the delusions fell away, and all the lies I had assiduously lived by became strikingly apparent. It's not a small world, when there's only one face in it you can bear to look upon, and that face is lost somewhere in the maelstrom,. It's not a small world when the few, vital memories of your object of affection are in danger of being trampled out by the thousands of moments that assail you every day, like children tugging at you, demanding your sole attention. I was a broken man."
-Books of Blood

boy/student/friend/aspiring poet/bi/dork/fool

I tend to write my journal entries as if I am writing a novel. Maybe one day it will be if life keeps up with these twists and turns.