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“April this year, not otherwise / Than April of a year ago, / Is full of whispers, full of sighs,”
— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from “Song Of A Second April”
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Last week, I learned that the English language has more euphemisms for death than any other language. I learned that the ancient Greeks had no word for the colour blue and that the Hawain alphabet has only twelve letters. I spent last week hollowing out a little place in my heart and filling it with worry. What does that say about us? Do we really go out of our way to avoid death like that? How did the Greeks describe the sea? Are twelve letters really enough? Does every language have a word for love? Every language should have a word for love. And compassion. And gentleness. And figs and snow and that soft sensitive part on the inside of one’s arm. We should have words for everything so that we don’t feel alone. We need very very very specific words for all of the different kinds of sad and even more specific words for the kinds of happy. What if we were able to talk about everything? I want to tell you how I feel and I want to be precise. Sometimes ‘good’ just isn’t enough and few understand what I mean when I say that I feel ’like lightning.’
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if i was in a jane austen novel i would be the one sent to the seaside for my health
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Misty Edinburgh - 6/4/19
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might just mess around and reclaim my human worth as intrinsic instead of defined by my productivity
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you spent 4$ on a frog balloon?
im just trying to be happy
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