with tired eyes, tired minds, tired souls, we slept

jimmy edward. rest in peace.

when King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? he's written "He dies." that's all, nothing more. no fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. the culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." it takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." and yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. and I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words.


dun try too much to pretend to be happy, no one cares for your feelings. they just pretend they do.

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