In the world I notice persons are nearly always stressed and have no time. Even Grandma often says that, but she and Steppa don’t have jobs, so I don’t know how persons with jobs do the jobs and all the living as well. In Room me and Ma had time for everything. I guess the time gets spread very thin like butter all over the world, the roads and houses and playgrounds and stores, so there’s only a little smear of time on each place, then everyone has to hurry on to the next bit.
I can’t shake this feeling at the end of each day, that I keep on working hard but all I do is get paid. Though I keep believing there’s a light up ahead, ’cause it’s only getting darker and I could stay in my bed. It’s a fight, it takes so long, but I’ve learned to hold my own. So I stand and I wait in line.
Let’s stop the glorification of busy.
My father never went to college so it was really important I go to college. After college, I called him long distance and said, now what?
My dad didn’t know, so he said get a job.
When I got a job and turned twenty-five, long distance, I said, now what? My dad didn’t know, so he said, get married.
I’m a thirty-year-old boy, and I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer I need.
And smiles turn into laughs, and laughs turn into kisses and before you know it the days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. And you’ll find yourself forgetting what it was like before they were in your life.
The air I breathe in a room empty of you is unhealthy.
It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.
You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. Buy the sofa, then for a couple years you’re satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you’ve got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug.
Then you’re trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you.
There’s so much more to life than finding someone who will want you, or being sad over someone who doesn’t. There’s a lot of wonderful time to be spent discovering yourself without hoping someone will fall in love with you along the way, and it doesn’t need to be painful or empty. You need to fill yourself up with love. Not anyone else. Become a whole being on your own. Go on adventures, fall asleep in the woods with friends, wander around the city at night, sit in a coffee shop on your own, write on bathroom stalls, leave notes in library books, dress up for yourself, give to others, smile a lot. Do all things with love, but don’t romanticize life like you can’t survive without it. Live for yourself and be happy on your own. It isn’t any less beautiful, I promise.
All the people we have met and all the people we have yet to meet, are meant to exist so we can find them, so we both could exchange a set of directions which will guide us to the next place we are meant to go. And as we go we must always believe that maybe this could be our last stop. That maybe the next person we meet will not have a set of directions. That maybe they will have more and that maybe they will offer us something beautiful enough to inspire us to stay.
Beauty is an enormous, unmerited gift given randomly, stupidly.
Give me a man who is man enough to give himself just to the woman who is worth him. If that woman were me I would love him alone and forever.
The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.
I always thought there was something romantic about fighting for someone. About winning them back, eventual happiness. But as I sit here with stones in my chest, where hope used to lie, I have come to the realization that there is nothing lovely about having to continuously convince someone to love you.
In French, you don’t really say “I miss you”. You say “tu me manques”, which is closer to “you are missing from me”.
I love that. “You are missing from me”. You are a part of me, you are essential to my being. You are like a limb, or an organ, or blood. I cannot function without you.
I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.
And I understand. I understand why people hold hands: I’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying ‘This is mine’. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about I want you with me and don’t go.
The trouble is, you think you have time.
I can’t make you love me if you don’t, you can’t make your heart feel something that it won’t. And here in the dark, in these final hours, I will lay down my heart and I will feel the power but you won’t.
You will love him, in the way you walk a tightrope—in the way people learn to fall asleep in a war zone.
She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together.
Integrity is doing the right thing even when no one is watching.
Why do we choose partners so different from ourselves? It’s not fate or chance or clichés like ‘the heart wants what the heart wants’. We choose our partners because they represent the unfinished business from our childhood. And we choose them because they manifest the qualities we wish we had. In doing so, in choosing such a challenging partner, and working to give them what they need, we chart a course for our own growth.
I think about the problem with running from your trouble. The problem is in the stopping. The whole time you think you’re getting away from everything, the trouble is running like mad, too, trying to catch up with you. And it doesn’t slow down when you do—it keeps on sprinting. So when trouble finally reaches you, it hits you hard.
For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.
Your love will be safe with me.
I think she was afraid to love sometimes. I think it scared her. She was the type to like things that were concrete, like the ocean. Something you could point to and know what it was. I think that’s why she always struggled with God. And I think that’s why she also struggled with love. She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t hold on to it and make sure it never changed.
It’s easy to feel uncared for when people aren’t able to communicate and connect with you in the way you need. And it’s so hard not to internalize that silence as a reflection on your worth. But the truth is that the way other people operate is not about you. Most people are so caught up in their own responsibilities, struggles, and anxiety that the thought of asking someone else how they’re doing doesn’t even cross their mind. They aren’t inherently bad or uncaring – they’re just busy and self-focused. And that’s okay. It’s not evidence of some fundamental failing on your part. It doesn’t make you unloveable or invisible. It just means that those people aren’t very good at looking beyond their own world. But the fact that you are – that despite the darkness you feel, you have the ability to share your love and light with others – is a strength. Your work isn’t to change who you are; it’s to find people who are able to give you the connection you need. Because despite what you feel, you are not too much. You are not too sensitive or too needy. You are thoughtful and empathetic. You are compassionate and kind. And with or without anyone’s acknowledgment or affection, you are enough.
Confidence isn’t walking into a room with your nose in the air, and thinking you are better than everyone else, it’s walking into a room and not having to compare yourself with anyone in the first place.
It’s knowing I’m not shackled by forgotten words and bonds and the ink stains that are dried upon some line. That keeps you in the back roads by the rivers of my memory; that keeps you ever gentle on my mind.
Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts. Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these things confused with love, but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain and makes someone feel wonderful again. Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt.