The Ticking is the Bomb by Nick Flynn
There’s no point in me ever trying to properly explain why I swam for hours every morning in the pool at the Hyatt in the week my father had a stroke. Nick Flynn has done it for me. The last time I read this book was before. God how books morph in myriad ways. Reread, always reread.
Everyone I know seems to be getting wrist tattoos at the moment.
They scare the crap out of me. I don’t know how you decide to have something cut into your skin for the rest of your life. I think they can look really good but how do you get to that mental place where you’re okay with like… forever? Bodily forever?
I’m not very good with bodily forever.
i would be a whole lot happier.
bodies are terrible. actually they’re quite wonderful and a fun means of expression but everyone just sees them as a way to judge and categorize. why should i be constantly concerned over this thing that really is no reflection of who i am on the inside. it’s so pointless and stupid and it’s not enough for me to realize it because i can’t force everyone else to understand as well. it’s just so sad.
I have nothing to add save an extremely enthusiastic nod.