Isaac Marion - Warm Bodies (2010)

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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.

Isaac Marion
I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread.

Isaac Marion
I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.

Isaac Marion
I feel the flatline of my existence disrupting, forming heartbeat hills and valleys

Isaac Marion
Thinking all this maximalism would somehow generate happiness?

Isaac Marion
I want a new past, new memories, a new first handshake with love. I want to start over in every possible way.

Isaac Marion
My friend "M" says the irony of being a zombie is that everything is funny, but you can't smile, because your lips have rotted off.

Isaac Marion
What's the point of trying to fix a world we're so briefly in?

Isaac Marion
We eat and sleep and shuffle through the fog, walking a marathon with no finish line, no medals, no cheering.

Isaac Marion
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.

Isaac Marion
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.

Isaac Marion
Came to... see you. But I had to go home, remember? You were supposed to say good-bye. Don't know why you... say good-bye. I say... hello. Her lip quivers between reactions, but she ends up with a reluctant smile. God you're a cheeseball. But seriously, R—

Isaac Marion
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.

Isaac Marion
We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.

Isaac Marion
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?

Isaac Marion
I am Dead, but it's not so bad. I've learned to live with it.

Isaac Marion
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.

Isaac Marion
I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.

Isaac Marion
The past is made out of facts...I guess the future is just hope.

Isaac Marion
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.

Isaac Marion
One mistake, one brief lapse of my new found judgement-that's all it took to unravel everything. What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature.

Isaac Marion
Is this muteness a real physical handicap? One of the many symptoms of being Dead? Or do we just have nothing left to say?

Isaac Marion
All my life I have battled the alarm clock, pummeling the snooze button over and over with mounting self-loathing until the shame is finally strong enough to lever me upright.

Isaac Marion
I would like my life to be a movie so I could cut to a montage.

Isaac Marion
I can no longer believe in any voodoo spell or laboratory virus. This is something deeper, darker. This comes from the cosmos, from the stars, or the unknown blackness behind them. The shadows in God's boarded-up basement.

Isaac Marion