It's the only life, after all

the water is wide

no subject.

Love cannot be wrong.

Hard Arguments.

I deserve better.

You, the coward. You, the one who promises the world and then hides in his cave. You, the one who could change my life, and has - over and over again, yet chooses to pretend that I don't exist. You, the one who told me it was OK! and then went and decided that it's not true, that it couldn't have been true, and for all I know, the sky is green!

There are people that enter our lives every day, but for some reason we can only hold onto a select few. For me, you were the person. The one I compared everyone to. The one I put up on a pedestal and hoped that one day maybe someone else I met might reach almost as high.

It's a shame, because now if I keep with my tradition, no one will have anything to measure up to anymore. I may as well have no standards at all. No expectations, that's for sure.

You are afraid to open your eyes even though deep inside you know the only thing waiting for you is me - meeting your every gaze. 

It doesn't help that you're so far away.

And so, for the rest of your life I will be with you, in your dreams at night and your thoughts in the day. It will not grow easier with time, but harder. I will not fade. I will not falter. I will not disappear. There will not be a day that I don't cross your mind. You will live with that regret forever, where as I will have none - because I have done everything in my power to help you see me.

God help the boy who lives with his eyes closed. He will one day fall. Hard.

Who will be there to pick you up?

I could be too far gone to reach you by then.

Hopefully you're smart. Hopefully you still read this.

Art objects to the lie against life that it is pointless and mean. The message coloured through time is not lack but abundance, not silence but many voices. Art, all art is the communication cord that cannot be snapped by indifference or disaster. Against the daily death it does not die.

Art Objects: Essays on Ecstasy and Effrontery 

Jeanette Winterson