“If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.”—Daphne du Maurier
How do I overcome this pain? With god? With the grief center? With drugs alcohol? With numbness or ignorance? With fact? Gizmo licks my tears away as I lay in bed in this empty house and scream for my mommy to come back I haven’t cried like this in a while. I almost feel the louder I scream my mom will be forced to come back and comfort me. I’m so lost and unhappy I don’t know where to go from here. I need to be held and comforted I need to be taken care of until I figure things out.
what happens at olive garden when theyre grating the cheese and you don’t say “when”
the waiter gets more and more concerned as the cheese starts piling up and you remain silent. they eventually plead with you to stop this madness and just say when, but you hold firm. olive garden fills with cheese, killing everyone in the building as cheese begins to pour out into the street. the world floods with cheese. all is cheese.