It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring with your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it’s not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”.
It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand alone in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back….
You’re never going to get anywhere pleasing everyone you know. There are some people who will never be proud or satisfied with you even after you take your life. Sometimes, you just don’t have to care and that’s okay to do.
I’m never going to get anywhere pleasing everyone I know. There are some people who will never be proud or satisfied with me even after I take my life. Sometimes, I just don’t have to care and that’s okay to do.
“Don’t Make Decisions When You’re Angry. Don’t Make Promises When You’re Happy.”
my woooorld has been….unbelievable. i have no idea if that’s a good or bad thing but ivve been having more than enough mood swings these past weeks and i have no idea what’s going on and where i’m heading just like th is insanely long sentence that is completely meaningless.
i’ve been overjoyed and extremely teary-eyed and it can all happen in less than an hour.
s like people be throwin knives at me and i’m scared sh*tless but i realize that they’re only the round-tipped plastic ones.
Am I pushing too hard to make it work? Enough to make it crumble? I’m just wishing for everything to be the same way it used to be, but it can’t be done. The true side of our human instincts—jealousy, selfishness—all come to the surface. There is no denying that.
I enjoy posting how I feel…even though it is not exactly the way I feel. I have some hope that even though we are individuals in this world, we can understand each other to a certain extent. We just need to acknowledge that we will never fully understand another being as much as we understand ourselves.
“Learn to love solitude – to be more alone with yourselves. The problem with young people is their carrying out noisy and aggressive actions not to feel lonely – and this is a sad thing – the individual must learn to be on his own as a child – for this doesn’t mean to be alone: it means not get bored with oneself which is a very dangerous symptom, almost a disease.”
“You don’t know what goes on in anyone’s life but your own. And when you mess with one part of a person’s life, you’re not messing with just that part. Unfortunately, you can’t be that precise and selective. When you mess with one part of a person’s life, you’re messing with their entire life. Everything… affects everything.”—Jay Asher (via 35bit)
I don’t hate you and I’ll tell you why: if I hate you, it means I have not gotten over the shit you put me through. I will not let you affect my life.. anymore. (Consciously, of course. Subconsciously.. I cannot do anything about, you bastard.)
“Our lives are so important to us that we tend to think the story of them begins with our birth. First there was nothing, then I was born…Yet that is not so. Human lives are not pieces of string that can be separated out from a knot of others and laid out straight. Families are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating. Impossible to understand one part without having a sense of the whole.”—Diane Setterfield (via 99lions)
Why does it never stop? Love isn’t a beautiful thing. I once thought it was, but not anymore. It’s an ugly, hideous thing that makes us say and/or do horrible things to one another all in the name of Love. I don’t need this shit, do I? I don’t want to deal with any of this. It’s just a cycle of arguments, make-ups, embraces. It brings out a side of me that I wish never existed. It makes me want to disappear (perhaps making this world a better place from my hideousness). But is it me or is it love? This nature to be selfish and yet to love selflessly is something that can never be at equilibrium.
I'm honestly sorry for overreacting with you, for making things harder on you, for making you cry, for stressing you out. I only wish you could give me the same courtesy and apologize for doing the very same thing.
I wonder sometimes if that star in the sky we failed to see is the one that’s falling in front of me. If only we had spent one second more seeing the beauty at hand instead of looking forward to what tomorrow brings anyway
And if the gods are still listening, i’d like to wish upon the star that just fell, that maybe we never paid attention in the beginning, but now I know what it feels like to forgotten in the end.
I am still surprised that you are not the person I thought you would be. Or maybe you were, but I ignored that promiscuous side of you hoping that all you wanted would be me. Kind of selfish to think that way, but that’s pretty much how you made me feel.
I’ve learned a lot from you.. and that includes moving on after someone decides to not be a part of your life anymore. I’m never going to go back to you and I’m never going to depend on you, because you’re sick of me and I’m sick of you complaining about how sick you are of me.
I’m not as naive as you think I am. Not anymore.
After you decided on your own to disappear, I was so desperate for you every time I was in a tough situation.. or every time I would cry for no reason during those late nights. Probably around three in the morning.
Eventually, I stopped. I don’t want you to be a part of my life anymore. I’m not sorry that I met you. I am sorry for being a burden.. even though it seemed as if we were making love. That’s what I thought anyway.
Now you will only be a memory. An occasional thought.