She was real to me. And while I can be logical about this, logic has never once mended a broken heart or fixed a sundered soul. She has poisoned the very core of me. A dream has killed me.
What about artists who aren’t nice people? They’re just nice people who cared too much for a person or a world that hurt them too much. So now they chase the world and people away.
I hope you love whenever you’re given the chance to love.
And we’re not everything we could be, because we’re afraid to allow ourselves to exist all at once, because too many people have told us not to.
But if we are the monster, and the person being chased, then we need to stop running because we cannot run away from ourselves.
History is a series of difficult choices. The only reason there’s anything left of the human race, the only reason we’re still here is because men like me made those difficult choices.
Even if you do it quietly you have to give yourself the life you want.
The universe is desperately trying to move you into the only spot that truly belongs to you, in the whole entire thing, a space that only you can stand in. I believe it is up to you to decide every single day whether you are moving towards or away from that spot.
My worry is that what you measure yourself with ends up defining you. You pour yourself into the thing that measures you and it defines you. And I just hope that one day you find out that you’re fuller when you measure yourself in love and people and moments, instead of things, adoration and money.
I know strangers can stain your heart in the same way.
What follows is what happens each time I fall. I do not know if these things really happen but this is what I believe happens. As your eyes move across these words, some sacred engine is coming back to life and I am beginning to fall again. Sometimes, it feels like I’m floating.
I hope you die knowing that there was no end to the road, and that the road was all there ever was, and that all that mattered was how well you walked each individual step of it.
If you really want to know, I just hope I die before I get boring.
Sometimes, I hide in a coffee shop because I want to hear my name being called by a stranger, by someone I haven’t disappointed yet.
Go find a way to be like dust in light, suspended above the carpet, go find a new way to be that doesn’t make you feel like you’re trying to be anything at all.
I hope you never become something you hate.
I hope you’re brave enough to hug yourself and be ok with yourself as everyone else will go away eventually but you will always have to live with you.
I hope each day is better than the last.
Often, we hate people not because they have wronged us, but because they have reminded us of some secret part of ourselves that we don’t like. Maybe, making peace with the world starts with making peace with ourselves.
I hope you learn the difference between the easy thing, the hard thing, the smart thing, and the right thing.
I hope you experience a moment of truth and beauty that inspires you for years and sets your eyes on fire, and that everyone who looks at you after that moment knows that you have been changed.