I want to love you…
but only the terrible
would bring us close, the mercy of chance,
a death, the room collapsing, a blindness.
Rather than that, i sit and watch you talk,
with hopes impossible as your lies.
I know now, after fifty years, that the finding/losing, forgetting/remembering, leaving/returning, never stops. The whole of life is about another chance, and while we are alive, till the very end, there is always another chance.
That’s what’s so gorgeous about humanity. It doesn’t matter how bleak our daily lives are, we still fight for the light. I think that’s our divinity. We lean into love, even in the most hideous circumstances. We manage to hope.
“I was laying in bed one night and I thought ‘I’ll just quit — to hell with it.’ And another little voice inside me said ‘Don’t quit — save that tiny little ember of spark.’ And never give them that spark because as long as you have that spark, you can start the greatest fire again.”
Quote from Bukowski: Born into This (John Dullaghan) showing a clip of Charles Bukowski recalling life as a postal worker while sending in his work and getting rejection after rejection in Popular Culture - Quote published by Gabrielle 8 months ago ()
I was surprised, as always, at how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility.
My name is Gabrielle and I am twenty-eight years old. I began to self-injure at age fifteen -- so nearly thirteen years minus a two year period. This website is one about self-injury (self-harm), made to let self-injurers know that they are not alone and to help their friends and family learn more about self-injury and how it affects their loved one.