True love is bullshit. A woman is the never going to be the only woman in her man’s life, even though he is only ever going to be the only man in her life. Why must we have to live a painful life of the one we love always desiring another woman’s person and body and we simple have to just accept it. Any sign of trying to stand up against this inequality in relationships and you are just labelled as needy, clingy or insecure.
What the fuck is wrong with this world?
— Sean O’Connell, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (via mirroir)
Some days. I will go down stairs, walk down the corridor and close the door behind me as I enter the room to the left. As I turn, I will gently lock the door and wait for the click as I twist the key. And, as I face that just closed door, I pause. Then, suddenly I will bring down my head upon the aging wood as hard as my body will allow me. Not once. Perhaps twice, maybe thrice. And then I will sit. And stare.
These are the days when I am not sure of myself. When I am not sure if this darkness that drives pins into the back of my head is merely an illusion… or the plain and simple truth. Do I bang bone against solid wood in the hope that lurking thoughts will temporarily flee from their darkest caves? Or do I do so in the hope that slowly, slowly, each one of these desperate days, I will work towards my timely self-extinction.
Some days. These are the mysteries that suffocate my skull.