oh, man. this. so perfect.
I once tried but it was too stubborn to love me in return
Sure, sometimes it’s better not to just come right out and say it, for instance “the unicorns” represent “the writing” and that “the unicorns” are the perfect symbol of “the writing’s magical, elusive, cunning, and enchanted nature.” Sometimes it’s better, sure, to write about unicorns and how anyone who tries to taxonomize the unicorns or frolic with them or brush their glittery manes will actually wind up killing them, whether on purpose, by bludgeoning them to death in a fit of jealous ecstasy, or inadvertently, but forgetting to watch them VERY CLOSELY and to provide them with buckets of Kool-Aid and piles of marshmallows. People can handle unicorn play way better than what you’re actually trying to say, which cannot, by any means, be said because that would be overt, and I think we all know how we feel about overt, like when a teacher writes on the board 1 = 1 in chalk and then she turns around and smiles with her eyes all wide, and you’re just like, yeah, and this is remarkable/amazing because…?
Rachel Yoder :: “Symbols” (ON WRITING)
I love you, Mom. I want you to be my mom, Amber. Are you my mom? I’ll just… I’ll ask you if you’re my mom, and you say yes, okay? Are you my mom?
I don’t know where to put things, you know? I really do have love to give! I just don’t know where to put it!
I loved her so. And she knew what I did. She knew all the fucking stupid things I’d done. But the love… was stronger than anything you can think of. The goddamn regret. The goddamn regret! Oh, and I’ll die. Now I’ll die, and I’ll tell you what… the biggest regret of my life… I let my love go. What did I do? I’m sixty-five years old. And I’m ashamed. A million years ago… the fucking regret and guilt, these things, don’t ever let anyone ever say to you you shouldn’t regret anything. Don’t do that. Don’t! You regret what you fucking want! Use that. Use that. Use that regret for anything, any way you want. You can use it, OK? Oh, God. This is a long way to go with no punch. A little moral story, I say… Love. Love. Love. This fucking life… oh, it’s so fucking hard. So long. Life ain’t short, it’s long. It’s long, goddamn it. Goddamn. What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? Phil. Phil, help me. What did I do?
Is it real love? The kind of love that makes you feel… that intangible joy in the pit of your stomach… like a bucket of acid and nerves running around… making you hurt and happy and all over… You’re head over heels?
I have so much strength inside of me. You have no idea. I have a love in my life. It makes me stronger than anything you can imagine.
There Will Be Blood:
This is hard for me to say. I’ll tell you first: I love you very much. I’ve learned to love what I do because of you.