If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery—isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.
I am Vertigo. I am the edge of love, and I am heavy with intoxication and dizzy with lust. I am the precipice before the yawning chasm. I hold your hand as you peer into the depths. I am the almost-love, born of absence, silence, chances not taken. I am measured by the things you don’t talk about, the words that linger beneath the surface. I am the feeling at the back of your neck—Go on, go on, fall, fall, over the edge. I am the potential energy humming around you. I am a ghost, a shadow. I am the yearning for kinship, for fingers that fit in the spaces between your own. I am the words caught in your throat before the confession. I am the trembling in your spine, the rust on your tongue. I am the could be, the might be, the slim possibility. I exist in the space before you send a 2am text. I am the look of hunger after the innocent kiss and before the savage one.
|—||if i’m anything i’d like to be this|