there are worse things
than being alone
but it often takes
decades to realize this
and most often when you do
it’s too late
and there’s nothing worse
than too late

—Charles Bukowski

Roses are #FF0000

Mark my words, technology will be the death of romance. That, or at least romance as we’ve come to know it in the past couple hundred years, an idea carefully cultivated by the likes of Shakespeare, Halmark, 90’s romcoms, our favorite books and those oh so convincing crooners on the radio. 

It’s already killed little pieces of it… for example, some of its casualties:

- Hand written notes. Now it’s all instant gratification. Hell, we can even tell when someone has READ OUR TEXTS! Why?! Why is that necessary? So that we can get mad when it’s obvious someone is ignoring us? What on earth is the point of that?! 

- Privacy/Mystery. You used to have to actually ASK people about themselves to learn things about them. Now you just check Facebook/Google/Twitter. Not only does it make the learning stages of something new impersonal (and mildly creepy/stalkerish), but it also tends to test trust when it needn’t be. 

- Calls. Now it’s all texting. Gone are the days of long tangled chords and flirty phone laughter. Now a simple “Hey” text suffices for most people. Next thing you know, they’ll have invented a single emoticon that simply represents “Come over, let’s have sex. Oh and bring snacks”. Congratulations everyone! We’ve become so technologically advanced we’re now monosyllabic cavemen. 

These days people break up via text, back out of plans via Facebook, meet their spouses while playing video games and cheat on loved ones while video chatting.

And adults wonder why everyone is so emotionally stunted and worship books like Twilight…


Exhaustion is a funny drug. It instills in you a childlike weariness, part attention deficit disorder, part dreamy delirium. I found myself drifting in and out of conversation at dinner just now, each topic change punctuated by yawns and copiously repeated “Huh?”s as I struggled to fill in the blank spots my tired brain had missed. 

More eating. More yawns. 

But then, as my mind drifted away into oblivion once more I found myself wondering if this is how sloths live their lives every day…

And suddenly my sleepiness didn’t bug me anymore. 

I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.

—Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow

(Source: paveo, via sequences)

I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.

—E. B. White