February falls to the ground
—like it weighs nothing at all. Hole-ripped leaves, brittle stems. At the close, everything feels like it is heavy down to the bones, but I want you to hold my hands tight, keep them warm, remind me that we will leave this season behind like every other breath we have ever taken in this world. I’ve been missing things for a while now — dropping thoughts, picking them up again dead and black-scraped from the sidewalks;
(There has been no air for a while and you start to think: what is the place, where is the light, I am forgetting everything. But the sun is due soon and I’ll be here, promise I’ll be here.)
"It’s that thing when you’re with someone and you love them and they know it and they love you and you know it but it’s a party and you’re both talking to other people and you’re laughing and shining and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes. But not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual, but because that is your person in this life and it’s funny and sad but only because this life will end and it’s this secret world that exists right there. In public. Unnoticed. That no one else knows about. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us but we don’t have the ability to perceive them. That’s what I want out of a relationship. Or just life, I guess.
—Frances Ha (2012)
(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via shutl0w)