I hate most people. And I don’t want to, it’s an awful way to be. But the human race gives me no comfort. I find myself turning to books and films for comfort still. It’s repulsive, because one’s life consists of people, not things.
Just because you don’t say much doesn’t mean people don’t notice you. It’s actually the quiet ones who often draw the most attention. There’s this constant whirlwind of motion and sound all around, and then there’s the quiet one, the eye of the storm.
no matter how many people love you, no matter who you are: at some point you will be alone. it is a nasty word at first, sits in your mouth ugly, says that you are lonely. but alone is an acquired taste.
alone tastes of the toothpaste you are using when you figure out the plot of your first novel. alone is the air on a december morning when yours are the first tracks in the snow and the whole world feels softer. alone is sour patch kids beside your bed while you read a book that will change your life. alone is spring rain you dance in. alone is a wish you tell a star and no one else.
alone is good. it is a memory you can’t explain the beauty of. alone is finding out that you can exist and be whole just here, just in this moment, even with all of your flaws; that you can love a moment just as deeply even if you are not sharing it with somebody, that, yes, some people make you happy - but alone is when you find out that you can make joy out of yourself. you have that ability.
As a doctor, let me tell you what self-love does:
It improves your hearing, your eyesight, lowers your blood pressure, increases pulmonary function, cardiac output, and helps wiring the musculature. So, if we had a rampant epidemic of self-love then our healthcare costs would go down dramatically. So, this isn’t just some little frou-frou new age notion, oh love yourself, honey. This is hardcore science
In every age, there will be good humans and bad humans. Human life is too long to devote to reproduction, yet too short to devote to learning in the helix of time. Perhaps that is why humans succumb to desire and seek release despite the fact that life is complete with the sun, the land, and poetry.
In your life, you meet people. Some you never think about again. Some, you wonder what happened to them. There are some that you wonder if they ever think about you. And then there are some you wish you never had to think about again. But you do.
and he looks at her so delicately, with such a twinkle in his eyes, that i can not help but let out a soft, “oh,” from between my lips.
“hmm?” he doesn’t take his eyes off of the girl asleep on his lap, her dark hair falling across her shoulders and face, and her hand resting gently on his.
“you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
he smiles, and tears his gaze from her to meet mine. “of course i am, and you aren’t?” there isn’t a trace of sarcasm or lightness in his voice; he is completely serious– ‘and you aren’t’?
“well, no, but i suppose i can see why you are,” i reply, and he chuckles dryly.
“you suppose you can see why…” he murmurs, more to himself than anything, and lowers his eyes so that he can once again stare adoringly at the sleeping girl.
“she is beautiful,” i say, in an effort to redeem myself, “and she’s very kind, and intelligent.”
“oh, i know,” he cuts me off, “but she’s so much more.” he smiles and twines a strand of her hair around his fingers. “she’s someone that you never know you need, until you meet her. and she’s someone you never know you won’t be able to live without, until you lose her.”
“does she love you, too?” i have to know, i realize. surely, she loves him back. she must.
“in her own little way, she does.” he frowns. they have problems when it comes to this; it’s obvious. “but i know she’s loved others, too.” his eyes darken. “loves others, i mean.”
“she does love him, and i’m sure it hurts you.”
he knows who i’m talking about when i say 'him.’ he sighs, and shrugs. “it does, but only a little bit. he won’t have her in the end.”
it’s an awfully arrogant thing to say, i think; 'he won’t have her in the end’. he’s so sure she’ll be his. “i don’t understand. how can you be so sure?”
“you never saw us together,” he says simply, as if it were obvious, “not when we were really together. if you did, you would understand.” his eyes cloud as he remembers. “oh, us, together… together, we could take over the world.”
“excerpt from a book i’ll never write #1 -c.h. // instagram: @evanescent.love (via @poeticaffinity)