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“But isn’t it also pain that often makes us most aware of self? It is a terrible thing to learn as a child that one is being separate from all the world, that no one and no thing hurts along with one’s tongues and skinned knees, that one’s aches and pains are all one’s own. Even more terrible, as we grow older, to learn that no person, no matter how beloved, can never truly understand us.”

“I believe that having a great diversity of teachers is harmful and confusing for a young mind, in the same way I believe that it is better to know one book intimately than a hundred superficially”

For if the modern mind is whimsical and discursive, the classical mind is narrow, unhesitating, relentless. It is not a quality of intelligence that one encounters frequently these days. But though I can digress with the best of them, I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.

But I didn’t like home any better. I don’t think I can explain the despair my surroundings inspired in me. Though I now suspect, given the circumstances and my disposition, I would’ve been unhappy anywhere;

(how I longed to be an orphan when I was a child!)

And since all this had been true for as long as
I could remember, I felt things would doubtless continue in this depressing vein as far as I could foresee. In short: I felt my existence was tainted, in some subtle but essential way.

Vanilla af

But what worse fate could there be? To remember love and know it is unattainable? To know love wanders somewhere light-years and light-years distant, ever knowing it is forever out of reach? Forever hidden? So I pick up another book.

"How do you stay with someone when there are no dreams to build? No purpose to accomplish? No meaning? No meaning - that was the monster that drove us away from one another in the end. Always.

what creatures of habit we are. After only a few nights in hell we had settled into a comfortable routine.

What kind of god would leave you burning forever?

We can’t and don’t know what others are thinking. We can’t and don’t know what motivations people have for doing the things they do. Ever. Not entirely. This was my terrifying, youthful epiphany. We just never really know anyone. I don’t. Neither do you.

It’s striking. Seeing someone with their parents is a tangible reminder that we’re all composites.

What if suffering doesn’t end with death? How can we know? What if it doesn’t get better? What if death isn’t an escape? What if the maggots continue to feed and feed and feed and continue to be felt?
This possibility scares me.

For years, my life has been flat. I’m not sure how else to describe it. I’ve never admitted it before. I’m not depressed, I don’t think. That’s not what I’m saying. Just flat, listless. So much has felt accidental, unnecessary, arbitrary. It’s been lacking a dimension. Something seems to be missing.
“Sometimes I feel sad for not apparent reason,” I say. “Does this happen to you?”

I think that’s why so many people rush into marriage and stay in shitty relationships, regardless of age, because they aren’t comfortable being alone.

אהיה חומר דישון מעולה, ושיחי ורדים יוכלו לצמוח מכלוב הצלעות שלי כשאתאחד שוב עם האדמה.

His birthday is on 7/9
Mine is 8/9
Is that a sign? I think so

I’m not strong enough for this

I need Xanax

Me and the ghosts in my bedroom had to take few breaks

“Like the two of you have your own language.” 🖤