You tell me you didn’t sleep well. I say
I didn’t either. You had a terrible night. “Me too.”
We’re extraordinarily calm and tender with each other
as if sensing the other’s rickety state of mind.
As if we knew what the other was feeling. We don’t,
of course. We never do. No matter.
It’s the tenderness I care about. That’s the gift
this morning that moves and holds me.
Same as every morning.
|—||"The Gift" by Raymond Carver (via flaowww)|
and the lord said to john, come forth and receive eternal life, but john came fifth and received a toaster
HE WAS MEANT TO SING AND WAVE AT SOMEONE AND HE SANG INTO HIS WAVE IM LAUGHING SO HARD
HIS FACE AT THE END
i’m an expert at having a really funny story to tell and then wording it badly enough that it’s not funny anymore