Me:
Were we supposed to meet at this time? Is this really the place we were going to meet up? Is it actually Thursday today? Were we even meeting at Thursday? Do I actually know this person? Do they really exist? Do I exist?
mosquitoes had the nerve…the audacity…the unmitigated gall…to come into my home…where i pay the bills…and suck the blood out of my veins…veins i’ve had for 22 years…
—n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside, a stairway leading to a wing of the house that you’ve never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you, because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a master key, or any way of knowing exactly where you stand. (via soracities)
