…with my whole heart, for my whole life.
Tag: Unknown
There’s always a little truth behind every “just kidding”. A little knowledge behind every “I don’t know”. A little emotion behind every “I don’t care”. And a little pain behind every “it’s okay”.
It’s better to cross the line and suffer the consequences than to just stare at that line for the rest of your life.
It doesn’t make sense to call ourselves ugly, because we don’t really see ourselves. We don’t watch ourselves sleeping in bed, curled up and silent with chests rising and falling with our own rhythm. We don’t see ourselves reading a book, eyes fluttering and glowing. You don’t see yourself looking at someone with love and care inside your heart. There’s no mirror in your way when you’re laughing and smiling and happiness is leaking out of you. You would know exactly how bright and beautiful you are if you saw yourself in the moments where you are truly yourself.
On the good days, I feel like I get it, like it all makes sense. I can stay in the moment, I don’t have to control everything in the future, and I believe everything is going to work out fine. On the bad days I just wanna grab the phone and start dialing numbers. I want to pull my hair and run through the streets screaming.
I have way too many aspirations for one life. I want to be an author and a poet and a nurse and a flight attendant and I want to own a cute little coffee shop where people come to write or read or just exist and I want to sell everything I own and just travel sound the world and I want to live in a super small town where everyone knows each others names and I want to raise my children there and I want to be a tattoo artist and make my body into the master piece that it deserves to be and I want to travel to Africa and build houses and I want to become a doctor and cure cancer and I want to be be a dog trainer and an astronaut and I want to be a photographer and I want to be a journalist for a major magazine in New York and walk everywhere in heels and go to fashion shows on my days off and I want to be a counselor for teenagers who struggle with mental illness and help them the way no one helped me and I want to be a kindergarten teacher and a stay at home mom and all of this is too much for one lifetime and that’s the problem.
There are two types of people in the world: Those who need closure
“I hate him,” she swears. And her hands clench into fists, so tight that the nails create little crescent shapes in her palms.
“I hate him,” she promises. And her hands shake so violently she has to steady herself.
“I hate him,” she repeats. Once, twice, three times. “I hate him.”
But even a stranger could see by the fire in her eyes that she does not hate him. A passerby could take her hands and the little crescent shaped marks and see his name scrawled into her skin. She does not hate him. But she wants to, oh she wants to.
We are not perfect human beings, nor do we have to pretend to be, but it is necessary for us to be the best version of ourselves we can be.
That often the wanting of something is better than actually having it and if you keep looking at what you have left behind, you will never be able to see what lies ahead. Furthermore, it teaches that one true friend is worth infinitely more than a multitude of acquaintances.
My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you’ve been mean to someone, they won’t believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it’s time to stop being nice, then destroy them.
Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something.
I wonder whose arms would I run and fall into if I were drunk in a room with everyone I have ever loved.
Maybe life isn’t about avoiding the bruises. Maybe it’s about collecting the scars to prove we showed up for it.
Sometimes the healing is in the aching.
Love cannot be measured by how long you wait. It’s about how well you understand why you are waiting.
Someone once told me not to bite off more than I can chew, I told them I’d rather choke on greatness than nibble on mediocrity.
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.
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.
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.
The dream of being Batman is to look in the dark and not be afraid, because everything else in the dark is more afraid of you.
We live on a blue planet that circles around a ball of fire next to a moon that moves the sea, and you don’t believe in miracles?
They call us dreamers, but we’re the ones who don’t sleep.