Thursday, September 20, 2012

Excerpts from "Orphans."

“The world hurts and I don’t want to live in it anymore.”
One of the many manic but truthful confessions I will carefully print into a Moleskine notebook, only to rip it out and re-write it because I used the wrong pen, or formed a letter imperfectly, or spaced the words unevenly. You can’t use white-out in a Moleskine – the slightly textured, off-white pages give you away immediately. Besides, if you’re going to leak all your inner pain onto a page in hope that it will somehow stay there instead of leaping back down your throat, you don’t want something as crude as white-out involved.

...

“You are beautiful like a thunderstorm.”
This one was for a long-lost lover. I was quite proud of this quaint little simile at the time. He was exciting and unpredictable in a way that made it impossible to do anything else while he was around – rather like a storm. He wasn't quite as pretentious as I was – he would have chosen Spirax over Moleskine to save money. But he was beautiful, that much was true. Far more beautiful than I was equipped for. When he left I realised I’d had an avalanche sitting on my chest for six months. 

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