There's an art to everything

“I fall in love with ideas and fantasies rather than whole beings and then I sit here and wonder why I’m still alone. It’s because I don’t fucking pay attention. I’m too busy thinking about tomorrow that today falls through the cracks.”

(Ryan O’Connell, “I’m Trying to Love You More”)

(Source: thoughtcatalog.com)

“Everyone should write because writing makes us decide what we believe — and so it makes us decide who we are. Life is mysterious and unstable. Writing forces us to draw lines.”

(Alex Magnin, “Everyone Should Write”)

(Source: thoughtcatalog.com)

“When your mother offers “he loves you as much as he’s capable” she means well. She really does. She’s just trying to help with the delusions. For a moment you want to believe it, to make it your alternate truth.

Does it make you feel any better? That this is the extent of his capabilities? That’s it? That’s all he could come up with?…

In the end, you must not carry your mother’s well-meaning message with you. Throw it away as quickly as you can. Do not accept this level of “love.” Eventually your heart will go on and you will want to find someone to spend your life with. When you do this, do not bring this message with you. It will break you down and keep you in places you should have left. It will make you accept the unacceptable. “As much as he’s capable” is not an appropriate yardstick. Love is meant to be boundless. It is meant to be overwhelming and immeasurable. It would break her heart if she knew. If she realized that her own baggage became yours. Do not tell her that you reject her message, but do reject it. Keep it out of your mind, keep it out of your heart.”

(Hannah Cory, “When Your Faither Is A Sociopath”)

(Source: thoughtcatalog.com)

Tonight I sat outside my apartment and looked up at the empty sky—empty because there were no stars; there never are in this hazy city—and thought, “Am I happy?” And all I could think was, “My God, I am so tired of asking myself that.”

“Words, words, words…once, I had the gift……but now…I have lost my gift. It’s as if my quill is broken. As if the organ of the imagination has dried up. As if the proud tower of my genius has collapsed. Nothing comes.”

(“Shakespeare in Love”)

Why must summer always smell so like heartbreak?

Here is what I want to say:

Last week I found your sweater in my closet. I looked at it, didn’t quite know what to do, and without really thinking I bunched it up in my hands and smelled it. It didn’t smell like you anymore.

I am a coward.

I miss talking to you.

Here is what I will say:

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“I know, theoretically, it’s about what you learn, it’s about the journey not the destination, but I keep trying to rip down the veil that covers the future, in an attempt to answer a single question that is slowly driving me mad–

Will this last?

God help me.”

(Shalene Gupta, “On Long Distance Relationships and Temporary Insanity”)

(Source: thoughtcatalog.com)