At times the same place of the unbelonging place of the difficult same builds itself to a wall. I made a mistake and let all the Shoulds chatter and clatter: The stuck of stuck should be undone by now by now strong should mean more than fragile by now shouldn’t you be Out past Out past Out past.
The now of here fights me, I cleaned the shelves and now Battles and Shaky are looking for their places. Staring me down and Fragile and I stare back. New Things are expected, I tell them. Let’s go for a walk.
Now in the ache of the mess of it is when you love her better, love her defiantly, love her stubbornly adamantly in spite of in spite of.
“I don’t really fit in anywhere. Not even with my family. There’s times when I just feel so alone and I cry for hours, but no one even hears or cares. I’m so tired of this. I don’t understand why I’m here.”
So apparently someone on here thinks that having a close relationship with your twin is incestuous… Let me tell you, without my twin, I don’t think I would have made it this far. He is my everything, my whole world, and where I draw my strength from.
This tumblr user also seems to think that nonbinary identities aren’t real.. Yet here I am, unbelonging to a single gender. jack-is-a-self-made-man seethestarsablaze myhandandmyheart
I’m lonely. What kind of loneliness? Every kind. I feel disconnected. Abandoned. As always. Repetition. So what, my love? So what? At first, I just wanted to run away. Now I have no where else to run to, nothing to run from. I don’t belong anywhere, I don’t want to go anywhere, I just want to be happy.
When you’re surrounded by all these people, it can be lonelier than when you’re by yourself. You can be in a huge crowd, but if you don’t feel like you can trust anyone or talk to anybody, you feel like you’re really alone.
I would never be part of anything. I would never really belong anywhere, and I knew it, and all my life would be the same, trying to belong, and failing. Always something would go wrong. I am a stranger and I always will be.
Smile Please: An Unfinished Autobiography (Jean Rhys)
I remember walking across Sixty-second Street one twilight that first spring, or the second spring, they were all alike for a while. I was late to meet someone but I stopped at Lexington Avenue and bought a peach and stood on the corner eating it and knew that I had come out out of the West and reached the mirage. I could taste the peach and feel the soft air blowing from a subway grating on my legs and I could smell lilac and garbage and expensive perfume and I knew that it would cost something sooner or later — because I did not belong there, did not come from there — but when you are twenty-two or twenty-three, you figure that later you will have a high emotional balance, and be able to pay whatever it costs. I still believed in possibilities then, still had the sense, so peculiar to New York, that something extraordinary would happen any minute, any day, any month.