sometimes i have this inexplicable urge to write down the images that flash through my mind..
...that hope is like an orca trapped in a koi pond, too grand and pitifully outsized for such a small enclosure.
...that descending into the Midwest is like dipping into a bowl of oatmeal, shapeless, bland, and hearty.
...that the man i overheard on the plane enthusiastically explaining his friend's research on cancer used the word "certain" so many times, i knew he had no idea what he was talking about.
...that the act of furtively jotting down these thoughts and collecting them feels oddly akin to amassing baby clothes for a child i don't yet have.
This passage has an image I love...it's from Ryan Van Meter's "If You Knew Then What I Know Now." The context is the aftermath of a breakup of an 8 year relationship and he's describing the things he would want to tell you on the first date but won't:
"That my body actually feels different now, maybe even unfamiliar, as though it was gone eight years and suddenly returned, like when a friend borrows a book for so long that when you finally get it back, you forgot you ever owned it. That it's because he knew my body better than any other man, and he told me he loved it while overlooking its certain flaws, and now that he's left, I feel as though I don't only have to meet a whole new man but I also have to convince him to think the same way about my body. And on top of it, I should probably like him."
...that hope is like an orca trapped in a koi pond, too grand and pitifully outsized for such a small enclosure.
...that descending into the Midwest is like dipping into a bowl of oatmeal, shapeless, bland, and hearty.
...that the man i overheard on the plane enthusiastically explaining his friend's research on cancer used the word "certain" so many times, i knew he had no idea what he was talking about.
...that the act of furtively jotting down these thoughts and collecting them feels oddly akin to amassing baby clothes for a child i don't yet have.
This passage has an image I love...it's from Ryan Van Meter's "If You Knew Then What I Know Now." The context is the aftermath of a breakup of an 8 year relationship and he's describing the things he would want to tell you on the first date but won't:
"That my body actually feels different now, maybe even unfamiliar, as though it was gone eight years and suddenly returned, like when a friend borrows a book for so long that when you finally get it back, you forgot you ever owned it. That it's because he knew my body better than any other man, and he told me he loved it while overlooking its certain flaws, and now that he's left, I feel as though I don't only have to meet a whole new man but I also have to convince him to think the same way about my body. And on top of it, I should probably like him."
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