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I sigh inside, so exhausted by these ugly questions, but when did a monster ever deserve its privacy?

Isaac Marion

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Exhausted
Privacy
Monsters
Ugly
Questions
Deserve
Sigh
Inside
Ever
Monster

More quotes by Isaac Marion

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I wince at her use of the word human. I've never liked that differentiation. She is living and I'm dead, but we're both human. Call me an idealist.
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It was fun, but it's over now. This is how things go.
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The kind of stuff I usually read is a bit more on the literary side, like books that I think are influential in the sense that they're doing pulpy subject matter in a refined way. Like 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy, I loved that book.
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Warm Bodies ended up becoming one of the most personal relatable things I've written.
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It's not like I'm such a shiny happy person either, you know? I'm a wreck too, I'm just... still alive.
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Music? Music is life! It’s physical emotion - you can touch it! It’s neon ecto-energy sucked out of spirits and switched into sound waves for your ears to swallow. Are you telling me, what, that it’s boring? You don’t have time for it?
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When the entire world is built on death and horror, when existence is a constant state of panic, it's hard to get worked up about any one thing. Specific fears have become irrelevant. We've replace them with a smothering blanket far worse.
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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.
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I wish people were willing to dig a little deeper than the surface elements of a premise before tossing one story in with another.
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Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.
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You might say that death has relaxed me.
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We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.
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I feel an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation in my lips, tugging them upward. This is... new.
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I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.
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Just... ate, M says, frowning at me a little. Two days...ago. I grab my stomach again. Feel empty. Feel... dead. He nods. Marr...iage.
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I don't want to hear music, I don't want the sunrise to be pink. The world is a liar. Its ugliness is overwhelming the scraps of beauty make it worse.
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Once again the absurdity of my inner thoughts overwhelms me, and I want to crawl out of my skin, escape my ugly, awkward flesh and be a skeleton, naked and anonymous.
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Why is it beautiful that humanity keeps coming back? So does herpes.
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I want a new past,new memories, a new first handshake with love. I want to start over in every possible way.
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...wanting change is step one, but step two is taking it.
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