We cling to music, to poems, to quotes, to writing, to art because we desperately do not want to be alone. We want to know we aren’t going crazy and someone else out there knows exactly how you’re feeling. We want someone to explain the things we can’t.
It’s hard when you have a gaping hole in your chest but you can’t show it to anybody because no one can see it, you can’t either, you just feel it, you feel a hole in your chest from all the pieces missing, from all the pieces you gave away, from all the pieces people took away without your permission.
It is hard to describe it to others and you often come across as an attention seeker or a liar or just pathetic but you know you aren’t and you don’t know how to convince people

i am not a liar or an attention seeker, i am just fucked up // @justscribbledwords

Am I the only person who is super desperate for an apocalypse? Like honestly I want to watch society collapse and to actually experience it. I want all of today’s bullshit to not matter anymore and the only thing that matters to be survival. Whether it be a zombie apocalypse or not.
This is one more piece of advice I have for you: don’t get impatient. Even if things are so tangled up you can’t do anything, don’t get desperate or blow a fuse and start yanking on one particular thread before it’s ready to come undone. You have to figure it’s going to be a long process and that you’ll work on things slowly, one at a time.
—  Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood