chelsea-fagan

Listen to the voice in the back of your head which tells you, as much out of sadness as anger, ‘You are ugly. You are stupid. You are boring.’ Give it the fleeting moment of attention it so craves, and then remind it, ‘Even if that were true, I’d still be worth loving.’
Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again.
—  Chelsea Fagan, How We Let People Go
Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again.
—  Chelsea Fagan, How We Let People Go 
No one wants to be the person who is made fun of for caring too much about something, who treats in earnest a situation that everyone else considers absurd. Even in personal relationships, feeling too heavily invested while simultaneously understanding that the other person couldn’t be more detached is one of the most profound feelings of embarrassment we can experience. Because it isn’t simply the embarrassment of making a mistake or a poor choice, it’s a shame over the kind of human being you are and how you see the world around you. To be shamed for your sincerity is to be reminded that you are dependent on something which is not dependent on you — that you are, once again, vulnerable
—  Chelsea Fagan
Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again.
—  Chelsea Fagan, How We Let People Go
So you have chosen aloneness. You have chosen the security and the relative freedom of solitude, because there is no risk involved. You can stay up every night and watch your TV shows and eat ice cream out of the box and scroll through your Tumblr and never let your brain sit still, not even for a moment. You can fill your days up with books and coffees and trips to the store where you forget what you wanted the second you walk in the automatic sliding door. You can do so many little, pointless things throughout the day that all you can think of is how badly you want to sleep, how heavy your whole body is, how much your feet hurt. You can wear yourself out again and again on the pavement, and you do, and it feels good.
No one will ever bridge that gap and point to your stomach or your hair or your eyes in the mirror and magically make you see the wonderful things about getting to be next to you. And maybe that’s it, after all, this fear that no one will ever truly feel about you the way you want to be felt about. Maybe what you want is someone to make you love yourself, to put sense into all that positive rhetoric, to make it so the aloneness of TV and blasting music in your ears at all times isn’t the most happy place you can think of. Maybe you want someone who makes you so sure of how wonderful things are that you cannot help but to tell them your feelings first, even at the risk of being humiliated. Because you will know that, when you’re telling them you love them, what you’re really saying is “I love who I become when I am with you.
—  Chelsea Fagan, For When You Think That No One Will Love You
Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again.
No one wants to be the person who is made fun of for caring too much about something, who treats in earnest a situation that everyone else considers absurd. Even in personal relationships, feeling too heavily invested while simultaneously understanding that the other person couldn’t be more detached is one of the most profound feelings of embarrassment we can experience. Because it isn’t simply the embarrassment of making a mistake or a poor choice, it’s a shame over the kind of human being you are and how you see the world around you. To be shamed for your sincerity is to be reminded that you are dependent on something which is not dependent on you — that you are, once again, vulnerable.
—  I Will Always Care Too Much; Chelsea Fagan
Sometimes we say that we met people at the wrong time. But maybe we meet them when we are the wrong person, when we have not yet met and fallen in love with ourselves. We are only half of a thing—even if we can imagine that there is a better version of us out there—and we are hoping that someone else will fill in the missing parts so that we don’t have to.
Tal vez sobre todo, sin embargo, mereces estar bien. Mereces saber que un día en el que apenas y puedes levantarte de la cama porque estás triste, o enfermo, o simplemente no estás listo para ver el exterior no es el fin del mundo. Mereces saber que los momentos de debilidad no te hacen fundamentalmente débil, sólo fundamentalmente humano, y que a veces no vas a ser efusivamente feliz, y eso está bien.
—  Chelsea Fagan
I have never been one to romanticize insecurity, but even still, I have always known that mine wasn’t the sexy kind. I’m not the Shy Girl behind doe eyes who, with every bat of her thick lashes, tells you to come even closer to hear her little voice. My discomfort with myself — the festering kind that we all live with to varying degrees — has always manifested like an animal pushed to the corner of its dirty cage. What I don’t like in me, I will hate ten times over in you. I will bite the hand that reaches for me in kindness, because licking my own wounds has always been better than letting someone see it long enough to put a bandage on it. Everyone deals with their strangeness differently, and some are able to transmute it into something beautiful and fragile and sweet. My jokes are the pre-emptive laugh, the first lines of defense, so that you cannot laugh at me first.
—  “I Am Not The Kind Of Girl You Fall In Love With”
It is important that we all draw our lines of right and wrong for our own lives, and not allow ourselves to be browbeaten into following any kind of pack. It is important that we treat others (even those who have messed up) with the basic kind of humanity that we would want to have been treated with when we messed up (even if no one was there to see our mistakes). Because — and we all know this, even if we don’t want to admit it — when everyone is constantly screaming at once, eventually no one will listen to anything.
—  Chelsea Fagan (The Internet: People Who Get Offended Professionally, Thought Catalog, 2013)
So you have chosen aloneness. You have chosen the security and the relative freedom of solitude, because there is no risk involved. You can stay up every night and watch your TV shows and eat ice cream out of the box and scroll through your Tumblr and never let your brain sit still, not even for a moment. You can fill your days up with books and coffees and trips to the store where you forget what you wanted the second you walk in the automatic sliding door. You can do so many little, pointless things throughout the day that all you can think of is how badly you want to sleep, how heavy your whole body is, how much your feet hurt. You can wear yourself out again and again on the pavement, and you do, and it feels good.
No one will ever bridge that gap and point to your stomach or your hair or your eyes in the mirror and magically make you see the wonderful things about getting to be next to you. And maybe that’s it, after all, this fear that no one will ever truly feel about you the way you want to be felt about. Maybe what you want is someone to make you love yourself, to put sense into all that positive rhetoric, to make it so the aloneness of TV and blasting music in your ears at all times isn’t the most happy place you can think of. Maybe you want someone who makes you so sure of how wonderful things are that you cannot help but to tell them your feelings first, even at the risk of being humiliated. Because you will know that, when you’re telling them you love them, what you’re really saying is “I love who I become when I am with you.
—  Chelsea Fagan, For When You Think That No One Will Love You 

And when I was torturing myself over the loss of someone who never really wanted me, the idea that I could have changed his mind is what really killed me. Even if I had changed every part of who I was, he still would have been happier with the girl with the shiny brown hair, and it’s not that he didn’t deserve me, because the idea of deserving someone is silly in the first place. The only thing we deserve, I think, is a chance to be with someone who really makes us happy.

— 

Chelsea Fagan