“When I look back, it was the people I cared about most deeply that ended up hurting me the most. Makes me wonder, though. Is it really because they gave me greater scars? Or did I inflict the pain upon myself by naively expecting that they, of all people, wouldn’t ever be bad to me?”—Tablo (타블로) (via bhagyawati)
I’m of the opinion that queer sexuality is always more fluid than our words can capture precisely because of the ways it exists in the unspeakable and unintelligible. Even as we (rightfully) create the words to express it, we create them in a context of power that defines sexual norms and thus can never fully achieve expressions that signify something outside those norms.
“I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones. Basically it is nothing other than this fear we have so often talked about, but fear spread to everything, fear of the greatest as of the smallest, fear, paralyzing fear of pronouncing a word, although this fear may not only be fear but also a longing for something greater than all that is fearful.”—Franz Kafka (via boywitch)
“I was twenty-one at the time, about to turn twenty-two. No prospect of graduating soon, and yet no reason to quit school. Caught in the most curiously depressing circumstances. For months I’d been stuck, unable to take one step in any new direction. The world kept moving on; I alone was at a standstill. In the autumn, everything took a desolate cast, the colors swiftly fading before my eyes. The sunlight, the smell of the grass, the faintest patter of rain, everything got on my nerves. How many times did I dream of catching a train at night?”—Haruki Murakami, A Wild Sheep Chase (via 5ft1)