He made lists of things he wanted to feel when he was younger, big things, small things, ice, snow, the sand at the beach, someone else’s hands holding his, feeling him feeling them, a feedback loop of feelings, which is what happens when two people make love. He wanted to feel things that made him feel safe and scared and things that ripped his heart out of his chest, things that made him want to go home and things that made him want to travel, things that made him proud and things that made him regret his choices and he, like all people, slowly ticked these things off the list in his head as he lived, as the world turned until soon, there were very few things left to feel. He believed the last thing he would feel, would be nothing, as that was nearly impossible to feel unless you were dead or hadn’t been born yet. He wondered what it’d be like to not be able to wonder. He’d once wanted to know what it felt like to be able to talk to people properly, to be normal but he’d given up on finding that feeling, figuring no one ever really found it.

Iain S. Thomas (via childoflust)

They call us the “Me” generation
(like we invented narcissism).
Critics inform me that I am
self obsessed, passive, and impatient—
eaten up by consumerism
as much as I am defined by it.
They call me dead from the neck up,
disillusioned of the beauties I now take for granted.
But I have never felt so much alive,
and the world could not look more beautiful
than I am striving to make it.
So if it’s selfish for me to want more for myself
than the legacy of poverty and depression—
of social unrest—
my parents left for me,
then give me my tar and my feathers.
Give me my crown,
and call me Greed.

Thoughts On Millennials, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

It’s the damage that we do and never know. It’s the words that we don’t say that scare me so.

Elvis Costello

Everything you love is here