“We’re behaving like characters in a cheap horror movie, she thought dismally, staying when we know we should go, poking where we have no business poking. True enough, she supposed… except wasn’t that what people did? Wasn’t that why, when Richie Judkins had come home in a really badass ear-ripping mood, Little Miss Cynthia had still been there? Wasn’t that what most of the bad stuff in the world was about, staying when you knew damned well you should go, pushing on when you knew you should cut and run? Wasn’t that, in the last analysis, why so many people liked cheap horror movies? Because they recognized the scared kids who refused to leave the haunted house even after the murders started as themselves?”


-Stephen King

That was essentially the worst possible outcome of tonight's night class. Holy shit. I want something else. I'm not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it's drenched in sunlight and it's weightless and I know it's not cheap. Probably not even real.

Writing:

"Often it is the only thing between you and impossibility.no drink, no woman's love, no wealth can match it.

nothing can save you except writing. It keeps the walls from failing. the hordes from closing in. It blasts the darkness.

Writing is the ultimate psychiatrist, the kindliest god of all the gods. Writing stalks death. It knows no quit. and writing laughs at itself, at pain.

it is the last expectation, the last explanation. that's what it is. "

-Bukowski

‎"It was my sword. I knew when the handle melted beneath my fingers and the blade shivered familiarly along my arm and into my past." - 50 Year Sword