Life can be hard and beautiful and messy, but hopefully, it will be long. If it is, you will see that it’s unpredictable, and that the dark periods come, but they abate – sometimes with a lot of support – and the tunnel widens, allowing the sun back in.
You don’t need to be good; you just need to be committed.
I love that you’re fragile and tough, quiet and kick-ass. Hell, you’re one of the punkest girls I know, no matter who you listen to or what you wear.
And I bet she’ll be a stronger person because of what she lost today.
Ride of the Valkyries.
Adoram fotografiile alea. Intotdeauna iti taiau capul pe jumatate sau erau intunecate de degetul cuiva, dar pareau sa prinda ceva veritabil.
I can lose you like that, if I don’t lose you today. I’ll let you go. If you stay.” – Adam Wilde, If I Stay.
After he leaves, we both kill a few minutes drowning our fries and the conversation in ketchup.
Then she stepped through security. She never came back.
Quando eravamo soli potevamo parlare per ore o starcene semplicemente a leggere un libro, ciascuno con il proprio ipod, senza per questo sentirci distanti.
Fingers of light are starting to pry open the night sky.
The sun is starting to dip to the west, a bright blaring ball tilting toward the Hudson and leaving a collage of peach and purple streaks across the sky.
I have this theory that almost everything in the world can be divided into two groups.
When the lights come up after the concert, I feel drained, lugubrious, as though my blood has been secreted out of me and replaced with tar.
When you watch, you are a spectator, but when you read, you’re a participant.
Twenty-six letters and some punctuation marks and you have infinite words in infinite worlds. How is that not a miracle?
Because the hard part of falling down is not the falling down, or the getting back up. It’s seeing what happens to the people you fall on. You get bruised; they get flattened.
In destroying ourselves, we also learn to create ourselves.
I continue reading, remembering why I used to love books. Because they show us, in so many words, and so many worlds, that we are not alone.
No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I read the opening lines of the book, and it’s like my own pages are coming unstuck. For so long, all I’ve felt is fear, and all this time, it was grief. I continue reading, remembering why I used to love books. Because they show us, in so many words, and so many worlds, that we are not alone. A miracle, in twenty-six letters.