--Elite Writer Alias: particularshard Name: Pure Thought ASL: 23/m/DC Bio: [ Quick Bio ] Website:[ Website ] Days Away: 3585 Life Story: not applicable [ Ignore User ]
Favorites: 48 Forum Posts: 12 Shoutbox Posts: 7 RP Posts: 0 Signup Date: 4958 D 13.58 Years 1.36 Decades 165.27 Months 708.29 Weeks 4.958000e+8 Heart Beats -There you go eggman Quote: shiny things are known to either rust or get you killed
“For I say unto you in all sadness of conviction that to think great thoughts you must be heroes as well as idealists. Only when you have worked alone / when you have felt around you are a black gulf of solitude more isolating than that which surrounds the dying man, and in hope and despair have trusted to your own unshaken will / then only can you gain the secret isolated joy of the thinker, who knows that a hundred years after he is dead and forgotten men who have never heard of him will be moving to the measure of his thought / the subtle rapture of postponed power, which the world knows not because it has no external trappings, but which to his prophetic vision is more real than that which commands an army. And if this joy should not be yours, still it is only thus you can know that you have done what lay in you to do / can say that you have lived, and be ready for the end.”
- Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.
I still can't believe you are gone. Sometimes I forget you are gone, in the some sort of inexplicably naive hopefulness. But Google reminds me of the number of times I've visited your Obituary page. I've read it 13 times. Each read is more cold and more unfulfilling than the last. It reads like a resume. It didn't capture the raw, rough-edged passion that burned through me and through everything. I can still hear your beautifully deep voice in my phone as I lay in bed, my phone getting hot against my cheek, because I've been listening to you for hours.
I still can't believe you are gone. I didn't know until a month after the fact, because when you are in medical school the whole universe conspires to protect/isolate/alienate you from real life. I've been cycling through all five stages of grief on hyperspeed, and it feels like it will never stop.
I still can't believe you are gone. God, I can't stop sobbing. I'd do anything to bring you back. How could you fucking do this to me--to all of us? I know it's not my fault, I hope that you've found peace. I still can't believe that you are gone...
i apprecate the post on ''10th circle''the name of the piece actually is a reference to dantes inferno where there was 9 circles of hell.so i guess i was meaning i was somwhere deep in trance,deep in hell...thanx again,ill b sure 2 check out some of your work,maybe u have a suggestive piece to pick apart?