“Let us treat the men and women well: treat them as if they were real. Perhaps they are.”
I cannot fathom the nights I have spent exhausting words for apologies I never owed and you never deserved.
— (via titsarefine)
If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right thing. Even if you’re scared that it’ll cause problems. Even if you’re scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud and you go from there.
— Mark Sloan - 'Remember the Time'
(Season 9, Episode 2)
there used to be a time when I wasn’t afraid to express myself, truly.
You - and
Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.
— Sylvia Plath (via psych-facts)
I was stuck between being unhappy and pushing you away. like a pendulum swinging backwards - each peak more extreme, until you disappeared.
it’s something like fear; the feeling I get when I imagine a lifetime spent bathing in your hatred. we dance on a pillar of ash, formed from all of the lies we’ve set on fire and ignored.
did you want this? did you ever care at all? what do you call a dream that was never formed - smothered in its inception? what do you call the words I could not even allow myself to birth in my own thoughts?
we take flight, though not together. we soar, to opposite horizons. you call yours truth as I call mine the same. I will always be looking back. wondering if your truth was greater than mine, or more worth its price. the price we both paid to console ourselves after our something became nothing.
I looked at myself in the mirror today, and for the first time in a long time, someone looked back. more than that, I actually recognized the person I was looking at.
I have a sense of knowing right now that I haven’t had for a couple years at the least. I understand how I fit in to the world around me and I understand what I have to do to get the things that I want. this isn’t an apology; it’s an acceleration. I can’t afford to look back on the waste when there’s so much opportunity and freedom ahead of me.
The future is a constant recollection of ourselves. we can either homogenize or we can disperse, but that kind of entropy is dangerous, and I cannot tread there. move forward, knowing yourself, or keep yourself firmly planted in the past. chaos knows no limits, and I know no sympathy for choice.
when I was younger I would draw this pair of eyes - with all of the hangs and sags of time wearing on the brow and the cheek. the image came to me like a vision, and every time I drew it the lines and shape of the eyes were always the same. always staring back at me, knowingly. I saw the anger and the hurt trapped inside the pupils, like a bear caught unawares by its leg bones grinding between the jaws of a hungry iron vice.
In time, as I grew much older, I learned that the eyes I was drawing were my own.
sometimes I think I’m the same angry kid I was 10 years ago. nothing’s changed much.
in the strangest way, we are yet again repeating the cycle of change that I wrote about 4 years ago.
is this what I’ve come to know since then? the exact same thing? do I have to repeat this lesson until I get it right? this is sadistic. this house got torn down so long ago. why am I even trying anymore? I got so fixated on something that I thought was so “meant to be” that I didn’t realize that what it was really “meant to be” was a lesson: a lesson about how everything ends, and about how everything will end YOU.