i love being vague but above all i love alluding and implying and i even love to hint and suggest and insinuate sometimes. read between the lines bitch
A man today will text you “Talk to you later” but to Anaïs, Henry wrote “I can’t see how I can go on living away from you — these intermissions are death. I feel somehow that it is a disgrace to do nothing, to just bide one’s time, to take it philosophically, to be sensible. Where has gone the time when men fought, killed, died for a glove, a glance, etc?”
“Are you the new person drawn toward me?
To begin with take warning, I am surely far different from what
you suppose;
Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?
Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover?
Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy’d
satisfaction?
Do you think I am trusty and faithful?
Do you see no further than this façade, this smooth and tolerant
manner of me?
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real
heroic man?
Have you no thought O dreamer that it may be all maya, illusion?””
— Walt Whitman, “Are You the New Person Drawn Toward Me?”, Leaves of Grass
anger is a secondary emotion; it comes from other places. we are angry when we are actually hurt, when we are actually scared, when we are actually tired. you have been carrying this white heat with no name for so long - and i understand. there are many horrible things in this world, and you have had to take each of them by yourself. one by one. how many injuries lie in your past? how many times have people told you to be quiet? to be better behaved? to be palatable? they will tell you that you are too much, but, my little warrior - your anger is your soul, telling others that you deserve better. you do deserve better. love that little fire of yours, but do not let it burn you. let it expose what it must, and then regrow tenderly.
