Alara
@paperthin
“For I have known them all already, known them all—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.”
She told herself again and again, Everything’s going to be fine , hoping if she said this often enough, she would soon believe it.
Her çiçeğin bir mevsimi, her kitabın bir zamanı vardır. Haziranın tadını yeni hikâyelerle çıkarın.
“Once I told someone to leave me alone, when really I wanted him to stay.”
I dwell in Possibility.
Across the top of the page, she wrote, “Words can wound,” surrounded by tiny daggers dripping with blood. Beneath this, she sketched a house with the word “possibility” across the front door. A girl stood inside, looking out a window covered with prison bars. On the back, Elizabeth wrote: “dwell—to inhabit, have as your home. To dwell in possibility: to live in possibility. I think the quote is meant to be optimistic. Make possibilities your home; live out the possibilities. “But, the quote can be pessimistic, too. To dwell on something means to never get past it. If you dwell in possibility, you might not accomplish much. Like the guy who has million-dollar ideas but stays poor his whole life. Possibilities are great, but you have to take action. If you get too comfortable in your home of possibilities, then your dwelling becomes a prison before you realize it. Your home becomes a jail that sucks the life out of you.”
I didn’t make it easy, I know. I never made things easy. Like Emily Dickinson, I hid myself away from the world. I was there, but I wasn’t—not really. Does that make sense? I wanted people to notice me, the real me, but I didn’t let anyone see me .
