shine on me baby

I just read Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami while listening to Max Richter’s album, The Blue Notebooks, which is inflected with excerpts of Franz Kafka’s aphorisms from his Blue Octavo Notebooks.

I’ve never felt this unreal before in my life. My heart seriously feels like it’s going to pound right out of my chest because everything about this experience has been so effortlessly and unspeakably beautiful. I’m still reeling.

“I’ve exhausted the alphabet. But I’m not writing this for you”

why is it so difficult to know when to hold on and when to let go? i could wait until the timing’s right and you’re ready, but will you still want me then? i could hold onto these memories of you and me and the could-have-been’s of every misunderstood glance, wishing, waiting, wanting. but what would that make me?

i don’t want to be that girl, but you’ve already turned me into her. this pathetic cinderella, dreaming in ash-dusted rags, that you would not have ever fallen for. you’ve crossed me into dangerous waters i cannot respect, yet here i am…

so give me a sign.

my brother and i on christmas day

Because nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than you.

― Nicole Krauss

Are you crazy? You know the English subjunctive, you understand trigonometry, you can read Marx, and you don’t know the answer to something as simple as that? Why do you even have to ask? Why do you have to make a girl SAY something like this? I like you more than I like him, that’s all. I wish I had fallen in love with somebody a little more handsome, of course. But I didn’t. I fell in love with you

― Haruki Murakami

finally got a navel piercing! very pleased.

You either like me or you don’t. It took me Twenty-something years to learn how to love myself, I don’t have that kinda time to convince somebody else.

― Daniel Franzese. (via cherrywhore)

You will eventually feel so empty inside, among your family and in your memory of your family, that even while you continue breathing, your breath will not bring volume or space into your lungs.

― Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge

perfection.

You will eventually feel so empty inside, among your family and in your memory of your family, that even while you continue breathing, your breath will not bring volume or space into your lungs.

― Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge

shall i wait patiently, the passive cinderella, for your readied soul while already holding onto your heart?

I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it - to be fed so much love I couldn’t take anymore. Just once.

― Haruki Murakami in Norwegian Wood