Isaac Marion
It’s not about keeping up the population, it’s about passing on who we are and what we've learned, so things keep going. So we don’t just end.Collection: Passing On
Maybe this is why I sleep only a few hours a month. I don't want to die again. This has become clearer and clearer to me recently, a desire so sharp and focused I can hardly believe it's mine: I don't want to die. I don't want to disappear. I want to stay.Collection: Believe
You can order yourself to treasure a moment, to cling tight to a feeling and never let it fade, but it's your brain, that three-pound lump of hamburger, that makes the final call.Collection: Order
I'm watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don't deserve them. Her warm memories. I'd like to paint them over the bare plaster walls of my soul, but everything I paint seems to peel.Collection: Wall
We're fumbling in the dark, but at least we're in motion.Collection: Dark
Is this muteness a real physical handicap? One of the many symptoms of being Dead?Or do we just have nothing left to say?Collection: Real
I adapt to things quickly, including good things, which I wish I could shut off sometimes. My friends have to keep reminding me how crazy my life has become, and then it hits me fresh and I just slap my forehead and think, "Wait, what... ?"Collection: Crazy
It's a strange feeling, being so utterly surrounded by her. Her life scent is on everything. She's on me and under me and next to me. It's as if the entire room is made out of her.Collection: Feelings
That's why we have memory. And the opposite of memory— hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can built off our pasts and make future.Collection: Memories
She is everything. And if she is everything, maybe that's answer enough.Collection: Answers
I'm alone, stumbling through the city in the dark, trying not to let the night freeze my blood.Collection: Dark
I hate that she's hurt. I hate that she's been hurt, by me and by others, throughout the entire arc of her life. I barely remember pain, but when I see it in her I feel it in myself, in disproportionate measure. it creeps into my eyes, stinging, burning.Collection: Hurt
Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting?Collection: Echoes
What's wrong with people?" she says, almost too quiet for me to hear. "Were they born with parts missing or did it fall out somewhere along the way?Collection: Fall
Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough.Collection: Want
Everything you see, you might be seeing for the last time.Collection: Might
I think we crushed ourselves down over the centuries. Buried ourselves under greed and hate and whatever other sins we could find until our souls finally hit the rock bottom of the universe. And then they scraped a hole through it, into some ... darker place.Collection: Hate
Sometimes I wonder if he has a philosophy. Maybe even a worldview. I'd like to sit down with him and pick his brain, just a tiny bit somewhere in the frontal lobe to get a taste of his thoughts. But he's too much of a toughguy to ever be that vulnerable. - R on MCollection: Philosophy
A month ago there was nothing on Earth I missed, enjoyed, or longed for. I knew I could lose everything and not feel anything, and I rested easy in that knowledge. But I'm growing tired of easy things.Collection: Tired
In my palm I can feel the echo of her pulse, standing in for the absense of mine.Collection: Echoes
She hugs me. It's tentative at first, a little scared, and yes, a little repulsed, but then she melts into it. She rests her head against my cold neck and embraces me. Unable to believer what's happening, I put my arm around her and just hold her. I almost swear I can feel my heart thumping. But it must just be hers, pressed tightly against my chest.Collection: Heart
Every time I go to sleep, I know I may never wake up. How could anyone expect to? You drop your tiny, helpless mind into a bottomless well, crossing your fingers and hoping when you pull it out on its flimsy fishing wire it hasn't been gnawed to bones by nameless beasts below.Collection: Sleep
Regret is pointless. I never do anything without first deciding to do it based on facts and feelings, and if it doesn't work out how I hoped, oh well, there's another notch on my experience belt.Collection: Regret
What a massive responsibility, being a moral creatureCollection: Responsibility
Breathing is optional, but I need some air.Collection: Air
I sigh inside, so exhausted by these ugly questions, but when did a monster ever deserve its privacy?Collection: Monsters
I think for a minute. Watching my wife fade into the distance, I put a hand on my heart. "Dead." I wave a hand toward my wife. "Dead." My eyes drift toward the sky and lose their focus. "Want it...to hurt. But...doesn't." Julie looks at me like she's waiting for more, and I wonder if I've expressed anything at all with my halting, mumbled soliloquy. Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting? I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.Collection: Hurt
I feel the flatline of my existence disrupting, forming heartbeat hills and valleysCollection: Valleys
But we don’t remember those lives. We can’t read our diaries.’ ‘It doesn’t matter. We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.’ ‘But can we choose that?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘We’re Dead. Can we really choose anything?’ ‘Maybe. If we want to bad enough.Collection: What Matters