Future Dog Walker

graduate playwright with a life long dream to walk dogs and procrastinate. And be gay. Like... really gay.

Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won’t know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it’s what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn’t really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I’ve felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I’ve been pretending I’m OK, just to get along, just for, I don’t know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.

So glad I read this right now. 
Seriously.  


Synecdoche, New York (via human-voices)

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It’s not that everything made sense in that momentIt’s that nothing had to. I was completely satisfied with all the questions I had in my life.Who am I?Where am I going? What am I doing? Is this right?I don’t know who I am.I don’t know where I’m going.I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if this is right. These trees are over hundreds and hundreds of years old and I couldn’t take it. Something came over me and I had to sit down and I just cried. For everything. For my life. For my decisions. For my regrets. I sat down on a bench and just felt completely alone. And happy. For the first time on this trip I was alone and happy at the same time. They are so old. They have seen so much.They have so much to teach.  

It’s not that everything made sense in that moment
It’s that nothing had to.
I was completely satisfied with all the questions I had in my life.

Who am I?
Where am I going?
What am I doing?
Is this right?

I don’t know who I am.
I don’t know where I’m going.
I don’t know what I’m doing. 
I don’t know if this is right.

These trees are over hundreds and hundreds of years old and I couldn’t take it. Something came over me and I had to sit down and I just cried. For everything. For my life. For my decisions. For my regrets. I sat down on a bench and just felt completely alone. And happy. For the first time on this trip I was alone and happy at the same time.

They are so old.
They have seen so much.
They have so much to teach.  

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The inevitable

And the moment happened. 
The moment I knew would happened.

Where I would trade everything.
To be home.

To not be in this motel anymore.
To not be in ear shot of the drunks yelling outside.
To not be anywhere near Montana anymore.

I just want to go home.  

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Said the river: imagine everything you can imagine, then keep going.

—Mary Oliver

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This is How You fall in Love with a Straight man Circa 2004

simplycharley:

It was like we were truckers, crossing the forever land
that held that forever future
in it’s low hanging pocket, towards the nothing we pushed
the car fast enough to fly, to sing, to flower,
and never did I turn to see his face.

Red hair. Faint freckles. Burnt ochre lips
that stared at me. An…

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Boys and girls, if well behaved, are lonesome.

—Mark Twain.

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First stop on my road trip. Hannibal Missouri.
Lula Belle’s B&B

I literally can’t take it. Yes.  

First stop on my road trip. 
Hannibal Missouri.

Lula Belle’s B&B

I literally can’t take it. Yes.  

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Let’s do this road trip.

Let’s do this road trip.

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Forgiveness is letting go of the hope for a better past.

—? (Let me know if you know, please)

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I don’t believe you can be any good as a writer if you’re trying to hide yourself. If you’re trying to be safe, you got no business writing.

—Dorothy Allison

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