There's this peace that comes with knowing you have a person in the world who would do anything for you, that you would do anything for.
People say that life keeps moving, but they don't mention that it does stop sometimes, just for you.
The truth often lies, unclaimed, in the middle.
Okur Takip Önerileri
I used to care when men called me difficult. I really did. Then I stopped. This way is better.
Nothing I wouldn’t do to go back to the past and wait for you.
But knowing you’re good can only take you so far. At some point, you need someone else to see it, too. Appreciation from people you admire changes how you see yourself.
It is what I have always loved about music. Not the sounds or the crowds or the good times as much as the words -- the emotions, the stories, the truth -- that you can let flow right out of your mouth.
Music can dig, you know? It can take a shovel to your chest and just start digging until you hit something.
“I believe you can break me
But I'm saved for the one who saved me
We only look like young stars
Because you can't see old scars”
That’s the glory of being a man. An ugly face isn’t the end of you.
And Daisy didn’t actually have confidence. She was always good. Confidence is being okay being bad, not being okay being good.
She had written something that felt like I could have written it, except I knew I couldn't have. I wouldn't have come up with something like that. Which is what we all want from art, isn’t it? When someone pins down something that feels like it lives inside us? Takes a piece of your heart out and shows it to you? It’s like they are introducing you to a part of yourself.
Other times I fixate on how endearing people are. We sleep on soft surfaces; we like to be cozy. When I see cats cuddled up on pillows, I find it sweet; we are like that too. We like to eat cookies and smell flowers. We wear mittens and hats. We visit our families even when we’re old. We like to pet dogs. We laugh; we make involuntary sounds when we find things funny. Laughing is adorable, if you really think about it. We have hospitals. We invented buildings meant to help repair people. Doctors and nurses study for years to work here. They come here every day just to patch other people up. If we discovered some other animal who created infrastructure in the anticipation that their little animal peers might get hurt, we would all be absolutely moved and amazed.
I wouldn’t mind knowing whose big idea it was to install organs in God’s so-called houses when they were clearly manufactured by the devil himself. Organ music reminds me more of Halloween and demons than it does of heaven. This is the instrument played in every Dracula movie, I’m sure of it. Are they meant to scare us? Are we supposed to be frightened?
I think I am an impostor. Twenty-seven years ago I was a baby. Before that I was a clump of cells. Before that I didn’t exist. How could I be a bookstore clerk, or a Catholic, or a woman, or a person at all? I’m a life force contained in the deformed body of a baby. Of course I’m a fraud. The fact that I’m able to carry myself through life without being crushed beneath the psychological weight of being alive proves that I’m a con artist. Aren’t we all con artists?
Sometimes I wonder if I have really been the same person my whole life. I stare at the picture, and think: Is that really me? I have this bizarre feeling like I was a different person at every other stage of my life. I feel so removed from myself then. Sometimes I feel like I was a different person a month ago. A day. Five minutes. Now.