Directly, or indirectly, everything we write is for someone.
I’ve never been lonely. I’ve been in a room — I’ve felt suicidal. I’ve been depressed. I’ve felt awful — awful beyond all — but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me…or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I’ve never been bothered with because I’ve always had this terrible itch for solitude. It’s being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I’ll quote Ibsen, “The strongest men are the most alone.” I’ve never thought, “Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I’ll feel good.” No, that won’t help. You know the typical crowd, “Wow, it’s Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?” Well, yeah. Because there’s nothing out there. It’s stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I’ve never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn’t want to hide in factories. That’s all. Sorry for all the millions, but I’ve never been lonely. I like myself. I’m the best form of entertainment I have. Let’s drink more wine!
I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you.
Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus (via spinals)
It’s a very powerful thing when someone sees you as the person you wish you were.
If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the Universe would turn to a mighty stranger.
Just as you are mine, I am yours forever
Anxiety is love’s greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic.
Anais Nin (1903 - 1977), The Diary of Anais Nin, volume 4, 1944-1947 (via tombtea)
Why should your heart not dance?
Lovers are patient and know that the moon needs time to become full.
Art is to console those who are broken by life.
I shiver, thinking how easy it is to be totally wrong about people, to see one tiny part of them and confuse it for the whole.
Too many people spend money they earned..to buy things they don’t want..to impress people that they don’t like.
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.
Every second I was not being true to myself or was compromising myself was killing me..
If tomorrow, women woke up and decided they really liked their bodies, just think how many industries would go out of business.