— Franz Kafka, Letter to Max Brod (via seasofquotes)
She smiles a lot.
She laughs a lot.
You light up a room, they tell her.
It’s just not the same when you’re not here, they say.
You don’t even know me, she wants to scream.
But she gives them what they want
He/she does not exist, to me or to anyone. Do you want to know why she/he does not exist? Because I don’t have a best-friend.
I don’t have someone I can lean on for support or when I don’t want to eat ice-cream in the dark alone; when the boy of my hearts desires has chipped…
how the fuck are all these people able to just run into celebrities in restaurants and gas stations and shit i’m lucky if i find two matching socks in a load of laundry on the first try
— “A Frolic of His Own” by William Gaddis