There are words that live in my mouth refusing to venture out, or even take a peak out of windows formed from sighs and deep breaths. With long strands of empathy that curl themselves around my tongue, begging me to feel like I can move mountains; but they only coward into the darkness of my body. Laying dormant, like they never were. And without them, I am nothing.
“Every part of my body felt electric. My chest ached and my head throbbed with the great terrible limitless possibility of the morning, and when it came, the sky was washed white, everything was new, and I hadn’t slept at all.”—Dave Eggers, What is the What (via bookmania)