Do you know what people really want? Everyone, I mean. Everybody in the world is thinking: I wish there was just one other person I could really talk to, who could really understand me, who’d be kind to me. That’s what people really want, if they’re telling the truth.
I can’t explain to you or to anybody what it’s like inside me. How could I begin to explain; I can’t even explain it to myself. But even this is not the main thing; the main thing is obvious: it is impossible to live like a human being around me; you see this and yet you don’t want to believe it?
We’d have to have no idea what a feeling was to take such pleasure. We’d have to think we exist for the sake of something else altogether. Well, I have a feeling, I have an idea, I know a pleasure. Fuck the sky, I say. Burn it down.
— Kathryn Nuernberger, from “A Great Place to Raise Children,” Rue
“Like Rain it sounded till it curved” - Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
Like Rain it sounded till it curved And then I knew ‘twas Wind — It walked as wet as any Wave But swept as dry as sand — When it had pushed itself away To some remotest Plain A coming as of Hosts was heard That was indeed the Rain — It filled the Wells, it pleased the Pools It warbled in the Road — It pulled the spigot from the Hills And let the Floods abroad — It loosened acres, lifted seas The sites of Centres stirred Then like Elijah rode away Upon a Wheel of Cloud.
Descubrí que llorar hasta dormir te alivia el alma y al despertar, ese sentimiento en el pecho, aquel viejo sentimiento que tanto te acompañó, es señal de que el tiempo si esta haciendo su trabajo, si te esta curando, si te esta aliviando.
Porque a veces ser cruel es el acto más lindo que uno puede tener consigo mismo.