Erin > Recent Status Updates

There is a small monster in my brain that controls my doubts.
...the monster is smart. It's always watching, and when I am completely sure of myself, it in chains the doubt and let's it run wild. Even when I know it's coming, I can't stop it.

I don't have high hopes for this right now.

I wish someone had told me this simple but confusing truth: Even when everything's going your way you can still be sad. Or anxious. Or uncomfortably numb. Because you can't always control your brain or your emotions even when things are perfect.

Benedict Cumberbatch us like Alan Rickman Benjamin Buttoning.

i do not want to have you to fill the empty parts of me i want to be full on my own i want to be so complete i could light a whole city and then i want to have you cause the two of us combined could set it on fire

But boys will be boys, our favorite phrase that excuses so many things, while the only thing we have for the opposite gender is women , said with disdain and punctuated with an eye roll.

Gender as it functions today is a grave injustice. I am angry. We should all be angry. Anger has a long history of bringing about positive change. In addition to anger, I am also hopeful, because I believe deeply in the ability of human beings to remake themselves for the better.

This book is fucking with my emotions!

"We punish ourselves so much in our own imaginations. We convince ourselves everything we do, everything we think, is wrong."

She delighted in the smell of the ink, the rough feel of the paper between her fingers, the rustle of sweet pages, the shapes of the letters before her eyes. And most of all, she loved the way that books could transport her from her otherwise mundane and stifling life and offer the experiences of a hundred other lives. Through books she could see the world.

"When we graduate from childhood into adulthood, we're thrown into this confusing, Cthulhu-like miasma of life, filled with social and career problems, all with branching choices and no correct answers." The perfect sentence to describe adulthood.

For as long as he could remember, he'd felt the pull of the road, an itinerant streak that chimed from somewhere deep inside him...

Sometimes a strange feeling would come over them as they'd race through the pages, and the words would disolve, and they'd find themselves deep inside Oz, or Narnia, or the Andes, or Africa, where everything was real and vivid and alive.

Our character isnt defined By the battles we win or lose, But by the battles we dare to fight.

The water feels so good, and standing still feels so good, because there's a whole ocean pulling at me and I have the strength to stay where I am.

I stared at the clean, well-dressed people, busily moving from place to place. They seemed so normal, so happy. Had they not known what we had been suffering just a few blocks away? How could they not have known? How could they not have done something to help us?

Only a few days earlier he had explained to her that he did not merely read books but traveled with them, that they took him to other countries and unfamiliar continents, and that with their help he was always getting to know new people, many of whom even became his friends.

"I love you, too," she said but the words that always seemed so big felt small now. What was love when put up against war?

I'm dark matter. The universe inside me is full of something, and science can't even shine a light on it. I feel like I'm mostly made of mysteries.

I think about celestial junk. Maybe every planet in this solar system is discarded by giant hands. Each star a crumpled ball of paper, a love letter lit on fire, a smoldering bit of cigarette ash.

Eliza had always felt that fiction described reality better than nonfiction; in the same way, black-and-white photographs mirrored the world as she saw it more faithfully than color photographs did. Sometimes she dreamed in black and white.

The best books, they don't talk about things you never thought about before. They talk about things you'd always thought about, but that you didn't think anyone else had thought about. You read them, and suddenly you're a little bit less alone in the world. You're part of this cosmic community of people who've thought about this thing, whatever it happens to be.

"What's a dementor?" I mean, I can't even. "Nora, you are no longer my sister." "So, it's some Harry Potter thing," she says.

...she died when I was three days old so missing her is a bit like loving a character from a book. The only stories I have of her belong to other people.

Serena is a terrifying woman.

People either see me or they don't. I wonder what it's like to walk down the street, safe and easy in your skin...

Peggy is a great lover of sleep; she luxuriates in it for long, lazy hours in the morning and looks forward to embracing it again every night. I love this woman.

As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and a jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves.

He liked visitors, but he liked to know them before they arrived, and he proffered to ask them himself. He had a horrible thought that the cakes might run short, and then he-as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however painful- he might have to go without. I know the feeling Bilbo. I get it.

‘Books are mirrors: you only see in them what you already have inside you.’