“Life is both sad and solemn. We are let into a wonderful world, we meet one another here, greet each other—and wander together for a brief moment. Then we lose each other and disappear as suddenly and unreasonably as we arrived.”—Jostien Gaarder, Sophie’s World (via creampuff)
“Life is a beautiful, magnificent thing, even to a jellyfish. … The trouble is you won’t fight. You’ve given up. But there’s something just as inevitable as death. And that’s life. Think of the power of the universe — turning the Earth, growing the trees. That’s the same power within you — if you’ll only have the courage and the will to use it.”—Limelight
Accept yourself. What I mean is: learn to live with yourself. Your thoughts and memories—especially those painful ones you keep pushing at the back of your mind, those little habits you hate and want to get rid of, those painful emotions that you want to burn away until it is ash that blows away with the wind. All of those—accept it. Only when you accept all of it will you be able to handle everything else. When at night and the moon is blowing her cold breath into your room and you struggle to stay warm by wrapping the sheets closer to you, struggle to stay warm inside by thinking that everything will be all right in the end, stop thinking and just be. Be in the moment. Your thoughts can wait later. If you try and feel, then I think, everything will naturally follow. Your heart will keep on beating despite the solitude that becomes deafening, the bills will still come and work will still pile up on your desk, people will still come and go as they please into your life. But this one constant thing: you will be with yourself, alone at the end or happily in love, you will be with yourself—all pain and joy together.
Accept yourself, then you will be able to accept everything painful and confusing and focus the blurry photographs into clearer images. The voices you couldn’t hear from the past will now be sharper than before. Everything will be all right—but it isn’t always the kind of all right that you wanted, but all right nonetheless.
1. Breakable, and completely broken now. Like the brittle leaves that crunched under your feet and mine when we walked beside each other.
2. Tired. A slow, frustrating decrescendo of heartbeats, an exact opposite from the fast-paced crescendo it drummed when I first saw you.
3. Sick of beating for you. You don’t care. Or maybe you do and I don’t really know because you never really say what you feel. Either way, your memory won’t stop haunting me.
4. Still runs fast when I see anything that my brain has associated with you: the sunlight, clear waters, soft eyes, laughter, coffee, late nights, cigarettes, rain, and so many general things. Sometimes I see you (in my head or in reality, depending on the situation) and I feel like clutching my heart and telling it to shut up but I also want to see where it goes.
5. Constructs words and the things it create when strung together—all involving an unconscious memory of you.
“And no matter what anybody says about grief and about time healing all wounds, the truth is, there are certain sorrows that never fade away until the heart stops beating and the last breath is taken.”—Tiffanie DeBartolo (via thresca)
You're no god You're no god You will never leave this place You will always feel alone You will never feel quite clean in this new skin that you have grown until your old and broken bones are laid into their resting place, just like the rest of human race.