These people are my absolute favorite <3

A writer — and, I believe, generally all persons — must think that whatever happens to him or her is a resource. All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art.

Jorge Luis Borges, Twenty-four Conversations with Borges: Interviews by Roberto Alifano, trans. by Nicomedes Suáez Araúz, Willis Barnstone, and Noemí Escandell

THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS, something I have never been able to explain and almost just literally made me cry. I will live by this quote forever <3

I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.
James A. Michener

The night dwindled on me, I found myself walking down a dark meadow next to my best friends house, everyone was off to blaze a bowl and I was just along for the ride, wanting to get away from the crowd and all of the people who awkwardly make conversation after not having seen them in so long, reminding me of all the feelings I had been trying to avoid for months now by settling down with just a few close friends; my comfort zone, in other words. Being brought back into the world of so many other faces and all of these emotions that make my insides bubble, feeling like they are going to explode, all so vapidly was a little overwhelming, not even close to how the rest of the night went along though.

My heart skipped as I saw a figure standing up from the shadows, catching my breathe and crossing my fingers, yet an honest sigh of relief piled over once a familiar voice spoke out and approached all of us. My first thought was to what he was doing alone in the dark, that is until we saw the little girl practically passing out and wrapped up in dirty blankets, my first reaction; they fucked, right? My best friend and I walked to her, trying to determine a name or an already seen face, though it was much too dark and all I could understand was that she was immensely crying, but why? Obviously she was obliterated, but what was wrong with this situation? 

At first, she only told us to call a number, “Please call the number!” she pleaded at me as I took out my phone and started dialing, John stepping over closer, telling me not to do it, to stop. It was none of my business to say anything different other than yes, so I called each number and waited for to a hear a voice, four calls and there had been no pick up, you could tell by her face that she was devastated when I said there was no answer, though she continued on telling me how much she loved him, telling me that tonight everything was ending and that she was scared, she way dying but, she wanted to. Although I had kept trying to assure her everything was going to be okay, she was indeed a stranger and her conditions were much crazier than I had imagined, all I could do was her close to me.

That call back was an amazing thing to see, she grabbed the phone and fell down onto the ground, crying into the phone

Through out the whimpers and the full blown break downs, I had taken in so much information that I felt my heart breaking for this girl, everything she had been through. everyone standing around the two of us as they pass the pipe around and joke around