"What I want to write is a perfect story, one that isn’t confined to the moment of making love, even if that is the perfect moment before all outside intrusion. I want to not fall back on this notion that the undisturbed bed is where all is well, is always well, never changes. That for a story to continue to dwell there, it isn’t out of allegiance to the perfection of sex, but out of fear - of going forth, of putting on one’s skirt, of approaching the day and everything there that may lead one to suffer. Outside, there’s hope — of all of this never ending. Inside, heaven spoils as fast as its realized."
- via melissa.tumblr.com

 
I'm not dead.
Now where's summer?