I did not myself know what I wanted: I feared life, desired to escape from it, yet still hoped something of it.
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I did not myself know what I wanted: I feared life, desired to escape from it, yet still hoped something of it.
Making the ungrateful grateful will bring tears to your eyes, tears of blood bleeding from the heart.
I was feeling sad
Can't help looking back
Highways flew by
Run, run away
No sense of time
Like you to stay
Want to keep you inside
This could be the day that we push through
It could be the day that all our dreams come true
For me and you
Until we're at the end of just another day
The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
It feels like I only go backwards
Every part of me says "go ahead"
But I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again
Feels like we only go backwards darling
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I have a call.
A whole moment of happiness. Is that too little for the whole of a man's life?
We don't have to worry
Life goes where it does
Faster than a bullet
From an empty gun
Turn yourself over
Loose change we could spend
Grinding down diamonds
Round, round, round the bend
You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.
You learn to accept whatever you can get
Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a
listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all
of which have the potential to turn a life around.
The human touch is that little snippet of physical affection that brings a bit of comfort, support, and kindness. It doesn‘t take much from the one who gives it, but can make a huge difference in the one who receives it.
It's only lies that I'm living
It's only tears that I'm crying
It's only you that I'm losing
Guess I'm doing fine
“I am here now to tell you that you were wrong. Family is not the only thing that matters. There are other things: Pachelbel‘s Canon in D matters, and fresh-picked corn on the cob, and true friends, and the sound of the ocean, and the poems of William Carlos Williams, and the constellations in the sky, and random acts of kindness, and a garden on the day when all its flowers are at their peak. Fluffy pancakes and crisp clean sheets matter.“
For as long as I can remember, the thought of ending my life came to me frequently and obsessively.
And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
You shout and no one seems to hear.
The whole thing I think is sick
All I ever wanted was to reach out and touch another human being not just with my hands but with my heart.
Sometimes you need to sit lonely on the floor in a quiet room in order to hear your own voice and not let it drown in the noise of others.
Last night I dreamt I was dead
I came running with my dog into the room of the dead
There was nothing to be seen
Only stones and a few bushes
A landscape that travellers have often spoken of
I would rather not die here
But in my own home, where I was not dead
All the death
All the death
In the course of a life
Be vulnerable.
I have tried forever to stop being vulnerable. It‘s not going to happen, so, fuck it, I‘ll just embrace it. And how many times have I let myself be overwhelmed by fear, I can‘t even count
Maybe when facing our very human vulnerability and fear, we should take off the armor and adopt those two with an open heart. Maybe that is the ultimate act of courage.
Be vulnerable.
I have friends wherever there are companies of trees, wounded but not vanquished, which huddle together with touching obstinancy to implore an inclement and pitiless sky.
The thirst for something other than what we have…to bring something new, even if it is worse, some emotion, some sorrow; when our sensibility, which happiness has silenced like an idle harp, wants to resonate under some hand, even a rough one, and even if it might be broken by it.
M.P
Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
You can say the sun is shining if you really want to
I can see the moon and it seems so clear
You can take the road that takes you to the stars now
I can take a road that'll see me through
The greatest hazard of all, losing one‘s self, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all. No other loss can occur so quietly; any other loss - an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc. - is sure to be noticed.
Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don't kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive.
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.
He was fucking sad. That's it. That's the point. He knows life is never going to get any different for him. That there's no fixing him. It's always going to be the same monotonous depressing bullshit. Boring, sad, boring, sad. He just wants it to be over.
If you think it long and mad the wind of banners that passes through my life
And you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots
Remember
That on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms
And my roots will set off to seek another land
I was going to cry. I didn‘t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I‘d cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.
Why am I so anxious? And then it hits me. I'm not anxious, I'm lonely. And I'm lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be so lonely because it seems catastrophic - seeing the car just as it hits you.
It was easy enough to kill yourself in a fit of despair. It was easy enough to play the martyr. It was harder to do nothing. To endure your life. To wait.
#tired #depressed
Can't seem to read, can't concentrate. if I try just a little bit harder maybe hanging myself with a necktie won't sound so appealing.
It's better to find hope in lowly places than to find none at all
To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one‘s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace
How many people long for that "past, simpler, and better world," I wonder, without ever recognizing the truth that perhaps it was they who were simpler and better, and not the world about them?
Be lost. Give up. Give In. in the end It would be better to surrender before you begin. be lost. Be lost And then you will not care if you are ever found.
To remain as I am is impossible; I must die or be better, it appears to me.
I've spent so long crying by myself
So long to loneliness, I've found something else
“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, ‘This is what it is to be happy"
This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality
Embrace this moment, remember, we are eternal
All this pain is an illusion
