Diana
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“I’ve lived on both sides of the abuse. I wear bruises on both sides of my fist. I have wept “what am I doing” and I have cried “why did they do that”. The child of an alcoholic and the alcoholic of a child. It’s strange how broken spirits, broken hearts, and broken homes walk hand-in-hand. How they leave a clear trail of shattered to follow.
We are all picking out sins of the father like shrapnel left over from the day we were born. Bang. Welcome to life. Try not to step on a landmine before you get to twenty. Here are your parents. They hate you. Sorry that you won the race.
Me? I’ve got a piece of broken mirror lodged dangerously close to my heart. I never know which twist in the story will be the one to open up my insides and help me drown in my own soul.
People asked me where I picked up the wisdom. I don’t know that any of this actually is made of wisdom. There’s just too much fluff and well-meaning for my taste.
For me, the path was always made of pain. I haven’t found feel better or act right yet... not for myself. I’m not the best one to help anybody else find it... that’s for certain... but I know every road that leads to resentment. I’ve walked them more times than I can count. I can’t tell you how to get where you’re going, but I can give you a roadmap that highlights the places I wish I never went.
The first place on the list sits pretty damn close to home.
There’s a town called Grief & Regret
just north of Salvation, USA.
I’m putting do not enter signs
on every road that goes there.”
―
We are all picking out sins of the father like shrapnel left over from the day we were born. Bang. Welcome to life. Try not to step on a landmine before you get to twenty. Here are your parents. They hate you. Sorry that you won the race.
Me? I’ve got a piece of broken mirror lodged dangerously close to my heart. I never know which twist in the story will be the one to open up my insides and help me drown in my own soul.
People asked me where I picked up the wisdom. I don’t know that any of this actually is made of wisdom. There’s just too much fluff and well-meaning for my taste.
For me, the path was always made of pain. I haven’t found feel better or act right yet... not for myself. I’m not the best one to help anybody else find it... that’s for certain... but I know every road that leads to resentment. I’ve walked them more times than I can count. I can’t tell you how to get where you’re going, but I can give you a roadmap that highlights the places I wish I never went.
The first place on the list sits pretty damn close to home.
There’s a town called Grief & Regret
just north of Salvation, USA.
I’m putting do not enter signs
on every road that goes there.”
―
“We all have a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the next, but I try not to listen to either. People with wings spend too much time in the clouds. I know an old wise-man named Intuition. He keeps his feet on the ground. He always seems to have the answer before I get a chance to ask the question. Spending his days in a dive bar called “The Chance". A small, run down joint, on the road from the mind to the heart. Two hours from nowhere and four hours back. I usually find him when I lose myself, but that doesn’t really make a difference. He always knows the way home....
Anyway,
he'd like me to let you know...
he's been looking for you.”
―
Anyway,
he'd like me to let you know...
he's been looking for you.”
―
“You get to a place eventually. The advanced reading section in the library of living. A place where they no longer stock the story that you’re looking for in paperback. Only leather bound first editions... with no fancy art on the cover. This is where they keep the books that look like they’re about to fall apart first day off the press. This is where they keep the books that don’t mind waiting in the darkness for someone to understand them. This is where they keep the books your parents tell you not to read.
I’ll say it again. This shit isn’t offered in paperback. You’re gonna need a hard cover to write the hard truths. If it doesn’t have a spine, it’s not gonna stand up for itself. You’ll know you’re getting close when the library goes from quiet to silent. You’ll know you’re getting close when every trace of humanity disappears. You’ll know you’re getting close with the titles all sound like the last chapter at the end of the book.
They call this section:
“These Books Are Ready To Burn.”
―
I’ll say it again. This shit isn’t offered in paperback. You’re gonna need a hard cover to write the hard truths. If it doesn’t have a spine, it’s not gonna stand up for itself. You’ll know you’re getting close when the library goes from quiet to silent. You’ll know you’re getting close when every trace of humanity disappears. You’ll know you’re getting close with the titles all sound like the last chapter at the end of the book.
They call this section:
“These Books Are Ready To Burn.”
―
“Sometimes I think about Lady Liberty.
How they used to let you climb on her crown.
How we used to stand bright by her torch.
How they welded that door closed years ago.
And how now...
you can hardly even get a spot near her feet.
~tired, poor, yearning to breathe~”
―
How they used to let you climb on her crown.
How we used to stand bright by her torch.
How they welded that door closed years ago.
And how now...
you can hardly even get a spot near her feet.
~tired, poor, yearning to breathe~”
―
“The shortest distance between two souls is an open heart.”
―
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Diana’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Diana’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by Diana
Lists liked by Diana










