Isaac Marion Quotations | Page 2

She gathers my half of the blankets around her and curls up against the wall. She will sleep for hours more, dreaming endless landscapes and novas of colour both gorgeous and frightening. If I stayed she would wake up and describe them to me. All the mad plot twists and surrealist imagery, so vivid to her while so meaningless to me. There was a time when I treasured listening to her, when I found the commotion in her soul bitter-sweet and lovely, but I can no longer bear it.

It was fun, but it's over now. This is how things go.

How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?

In my palm I can feel the echo of her pulse, standing in for the absense of mine.

A month ago there was nothing on Earth I missed, enjoyed, or longed for. I knew I could lose everything and not feel anything, and I rested easy in that knowledge. But I'm growing tired of easy things.

I know I'm not going to say good-bye. And if these staggering refugees want to help, if they think they see something bigger here than a boy chasing a girl, then they can help, and we'll see what happens when we say yes while the rigor mortis world screams no.

No praise, no blame. Just so.

We will cry and bleed and lust and love, and we will cure death. We will be the cure. Because we want it.

It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.

All the shitty stuff people do to themselves... it can all be the same thing, you know? Just a way to drown out your own voice. To kill your memories without having to kill yourself.