All the while you heat the plates and serve a little wine
And wear a hat and make them laugh
And forget that there is nobody in the room anymore
The thing about listening to sad music and watching sad films and reading sad books is that it feels great when you’re just a bit sad but when you’re genuinely sad-face-kick-my-heart-in-the-arse sad it’s all just a bit crap :(
Metaphors I regret, 2008-2014
pigeon takin’ a walk by its garden
how it learned to garden, i do not know
In the past forty-eight hours I’ve cut off all my hair and realised I want to be a librarian.
Who knew etc
"The evening passed off in the equal indulgence of feeling. She played over every favourite song that she had been used to play to Willoughby, every air in which their voices had been oftenest joined, and sat at the instrument gazing on every line of music that he had written out for her, till her heart was so heavy that no farther sadness could be gained; and this nourishment of grief was every day applied. She spent whole hours at the piano-forte, alternately singing and crying; her voice often totally suspended by her tears. In books, too, as well as in music, she courted the misery which a contrast between the past and present was certain of giving. She read nothing but what they had been used to read together."
Always has to make your funeral about him.