i live for music. i feed off of poetry. i love bubbles and photographs. i could do without sociopaths and ignorance. my drug of choice is art. i think vintage is beauty and uniqueness is an indispensable element to one's existence ::...and the blood drains down like devil's rain we'll bathe tonight::
You’ll get over it…” It’s the clichés that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don’t get over it because ‘it’ is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never loses. How could it? The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no-one else can fit it. Why would I want them to?