World

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”

Lost Or Come Up Missing

“If you think being jealous and overwhelmed and beaten and tired, dysfuncted and damaged, strapped to your baggage, dirty, ruined, and hurt like critical, cynical, scathing, if you’re lost or have come up missing, scarred and scared (or pretending you aren’t), when you think that’s all you’ve got, it’s not.”

Delusional Expectation

“Melancholia: a profoundly painful dejection,

cessation of interest in the outside world, 

loss of the capacity to love, inhibition of all activity, 

and a lowering of the self-regarding feelings to a degree

 that finds utterance in self-reproaches and self-revilings,

 and culminates in a delusional expectation of punishment.”

No, Nothing

      "I hear your name, no, nothing has changed."

Give These Sorts Of Things Air

“The lover is intolerable (by his heaviness) to the beloved.”

A Group Of Characters

All in the limbo stage of “growing up,”"


“The most honest and real sections, however, are found in what the characters remember, attempt to forget, and think about remembering and forgetting too often. The characters think about the same problems, the struggles, the relationships that have been plaguing them since they began school. They wonder how they could have done things differently. They complain. They hate themselves. They’re happy, sad, angry."

Earthshakingly

“In all these cases, the damage was done before you knew you were damaged. The worst part was that, as the years passed, these memories became, in the way you kept them in a secret box in your head, taking them out every so often to turn them over and over, something like dear possessions. They were key to your unhappiness. They were the evidence that life wasn’t fair. If you weren’t a lucky child, you didn’t know you weren’t lucky until you got older. And then it was all you ever thought about.”

“He remained heartbroken, which meant one of two things: either his love was pure and true and earthshakingly significant; or he was addicted to feeling forlorn, he liked being heartbroken.”

Gets It

"It's funny how fast you can know someone."
"Because you've met them before." 
"Exactly."

Some Things Were Never Meant To Float

   "i've never been in a shipwreck
   but i know they exist
   and the experience must be something close to this
hopeless feeling that gets reeled in from oceans for emotions sick"

Yeah

“yeah, I thought you were beautiful, 

but I wept with your movements.”

As Hard As

“You know, as hard as certain things have been for me, it’s been harder thinking about how things will be for her."

How Am I

how are you supposed to know the way you are intended to be treated 

how to do know what is actually deserving 

how do you know when or when not to let your feelings get hurt 

how do you know what memories to keep, or remove ones you no longer want to 

am I in control of my dreams and creating them subconsciously 

will my entire life be spent reminiscing upon the once saddening recent past 

will I ever enjoy anything nearly as much as my bed in the darkness

Not Here Not Now But Somwhere

if I gotta go on like this, I don't know how
I hear your heart, when you sing loud
it feels right it feels good in mine
and I know with whom I'd be with
where I could say I'm fine

Save My Life

                    "I was trying to save my life, it didn't work."

Same

We'll all feel the same way forever, because we have no means to change it, and we don't know how to. Whether I hate myself in my mirrors reflection, or in the reflection of another, my sentiments remain present because I remain so. I don't want to feel lost, even when I am actually found, because I've been found before, and the fear of it getting lost will smother it, and anything. I am always trying to get it back, get it all back, feel like I did before, when I was miserable, the same as now, and the same as forever. I always felt like I was disappearing, it's difficult to feel like I exist very much, when I hardly do, now. 
I actually believe I am too sad to live, as in to go on. Because nights will come, and they will grow later, and I will inevitably and out of my control, succumb to this exact feeling. It will reassure me of everything I have ever tried to push out, or forget, or try not to give into completely. And I will shoot myself in the foot, just to make sure that I get to it first before anyone else. I knew my recovery rate was very slow, but drawn out years have lead me to a place where I think I'm worse off, because it's the same, and I don't want to feel the same way, forever.