These are my new shoes. At first, I couldn’t figure out why I love them so much, but then I imagined the ideal outfit to wear them with: skinny black pants, button down shirt, suspenders, tweed jacket, bow tie. Tastefully accessorized with a sonic screwdriver. And possibly a fez.
Fish fingers and custard anyone?
I clapped. It is part of my nature to show hope through my actions. Yep.
I figured out what’s been lurking in the dark: fear. I’m so afraid. Unbelievably afraid. Of fucking up. Of ruining things. Of running out of time. God, I’m so scared of not having enough time. My life has happened so quickly. All through high school I was too busy trying to get out of my step-father’s shithole apartment to act my age and I tried to have a bit of young people fun in college but ended up meeting the woman of my dreams and falling in love and all of a sudden I’m married and living in Pittsburgh with rent and car insurance and student loans and all the hope for a comfortable future resting on my ability to get a master’s degree and I’m not complaining—I LOVE my life. I love my wife. I love my cat and my apartment but I just–I feel like I’m running, like I’m hurrying through life to beat something, some big bad waiting just around the bend. And now that I’ve taken nearly two years off from school I feel like I’ve lost my head start. The big bad is gaining and if I don’t make something of myself right now, it’ll catch up and everything will turn to shit.
What I want is for it to be enough that I love her so much. Like if I just LOVE her hard enough the universe will forget that I don’t deserve her and it won’t take her away from me. Because that’s what I’m really afraid of. I’m scared shitless that when the big bad finally does catch up, it’ll hit her instead of me and I will not have been worth everything that she gave up to be with me and I will lose her knowing that she would’ve been much better off without me. I need a guarantee that that won’t happen because she is all I have left. I have already lost so much—my mother, my grandmother, my relationship with my father, and the family who don’t speak to me anymore. There would be no surviving losing her, too. There would be no moving forward toward some greater purpose. She is EVERYTHING to me, and without her I am NOTHING. So I just need to know that everything will work out and I have nothing to worry about.But, of course, that’s not how it works. There are people who live long, happy lives, people who live short, tragic lives, and people who live every kind of life in between, and no amount of love is going to affect which life we get to have, so all I can do—all anyone with a dream can do—is wait. And work. And hope that the universe’s rules are not actually as fucked up as they could be.
This is amazing, and I must try to duplicate it one day.
Just imagine you are standing here, in the 16th-century Biblioteca dei Girolamini in Napels. The library is stuffed with 160,000 books dating from the 15th to the 19th century, which are draped around this room and others. Imagine the dusty smell, the echo of your steps as you go around the room. If you are a lover of books and libraries, this image may just make your day. Put your nose up close to the screen for extra effect!
Donde esta la biblioteca?
Me llamo T-Bone. La araña discoteca.