You say that you love rain, but you open your umbrella when it rains. You say that you love the sun, but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines. You say that you love the wind, but you close your windows when wind blows. This is why I am afraid, you say that you love me too.
William Shakespeare (via songchungxuan)
Perhaps the craziest moments in my life took place when I was such an active Primadonna. I had too much fun back then and nothing else really mattered.
To me, the world merely revolved around these five boys whom I have shed tears for, whom I’ve smiled with, and who’ve inspired me in life despite the bad times. It was not only them though; through this phase I was able to meet so many interesting people and I probably miss talking to them the most. I’ve been gone for quite some time now and the longevity of this absence did not make me feel less of a Primadonna. I still miss my boys and I still yearn for the day when I will be able to wave that flag proudly, surrounded by a sea of sunshine yellow.
It is a relatively little-known fact that, over the course of a single year, about twenty million letters are delivered to the dead. People forget to stop the mail - those grieving widows and prospective heirs - and so magazine subscriptions remain uncanceled; distant friends unnotified; library fines unpaid. That’s twenty million circulars, bank statements, credit cards, love letters, junk mail, greetings, gossip and bills dropping daily onto doormats or parquet floors, thrust casually through railings, wedged into letter boxes, accumulating in stairwells, left unwanted on porches and steps, never to reach their addressee. The dead don’t care. More importantly, neither do the living. The living just follow their petty concerns, quite unaware that very close by, a miracle is taking place.The dead are coming back to life.
It doesn’t take much to raise the dead. A couple of bills; a name; a postcode; nothing that can’t be found in any old domestic garbage bag, torn apart (perhaps by foxes) and left on the doorstep like a gift. You can learn a lot from abandoned mail: names, bank details, passwords, e-mail addresses, security codes. With the right combination of personal details you can open up a bank account; hire a car; even apply for a new passport. The dead don’t need such things anymore. A gift, as I said, just waiting for collection.