Letters from the Depths of Solitude (The Fourteenth)

It’ve been difficult several hours of my life; and I did not receive help although I asked for it directly.

In an attempt to be manganimous I recalled that I was not always there for my friends when they needed me, although I tried.

Still, it’s amazing that if I could share a win (perhaps I should be grateful for that at least, although the win signals way too often that it’s time to complain and mar my victory with whining), I absolutely could not share a single failure.

(Written in an orange pencil on the orange.)

I want to love you, really I do.
The connection we have is extraordinary, and we both prefer tea over coffee.

But I’ve felt the heartbreak. I’ve been witness to the shattering of friendships, loss of friends, loneliness of the aftermath. And I can’t go through it again.

So call me self-destructive. But I’m not the type to risk it all when I just taped my soul back together.
—  j.e.b. ((about being afraid to love.))
Despite what you may believe, you can disappoint people and still be good enough. You can make mistakes and still be capable and talented. You can let people down and still be worthwhile and deserving of love. Everyone has disappointed someone they care about. Everyone messes up, lets people down, and makes mistakes. Not because we’re inadequate or fundamentally inept, but because we’re imperfect and fundamentally human. Expecting anything different is setting yourself up for failure.
—  Daniell Koepke