Break the silence.

Share your thoughts.

The Margin is a quiet corner for what doesn’t need a full page. A home for stray, in-between pieces left in your notes or at the end of your notebook. 

again, I win by nico sawyer

eleven at night.

three beers in.

one angry man

screaming how

he wants to

fight someone.

didn't have a

chance to beat

him up

but I can drag him down

on this paper

to the bottom margin

just

like

this.

a memory of  by mila

I can still feel the memory of something that happened such a long time ago. But the fact that I think about it every day makes it seem like it wasn’t ages ago at all. Time has passed — all the in-between moments too — yet the outcome isn’t really an outcome, because nothing has changed. I’m still there. It’s like watching a movie for years, being far from the end yet far from the beginning. I feel stuck in the middle,  still trying to hold on to the first part of the movie. It feels safer, because I already know what’s going to happen. I’ve been trying to get rid of the feeling of needing the past in my present. It wakes me up — calling me to watch the beginning of the movie again, as if there’s still something left to see. Everything that has happened since feels meaningless. It’s as if the movie stopped playing when it ended, and I’ve been not enjoying the in-between ever since. The worst part is that I go places, I see things, I meet people — but I don’t really know them. I don’t really know these places. Nothing I’ve come to know feels as familiar as the past. It’s strange, because I like the present, but I don’t feel like I own it. It just happens in front of me and for me, and somehow I’ve missed a big part of it — replaying the same movie over and over, always just the first part. When I wait for more, the “more” comes, and I don’t complain. It happens, and I’m glad — but only glad, because what else can I be? There’s nothing in this world that could truly surprise me, except death — because I somehow believe we’re immortal. Until death comes, I’m still in between, trying to return to something that never actually happened, but that I deeply wished for.