I am a pile of ideas, a pile of dreams, a pile of plans, a pile of doubts, and so many other things. I am a pile of piles and it is so overwhelming. Should I get rid of some piles? Should I climb them? Or should I just give up and hide inside them?
Soul-mates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no. They’re the ones who make you feel you the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pains and pangs, captivation and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope.