“Get scared. It will do you good. Smoke a bit, stare blankly at some ceilings, beat your head against some walls, refuse to see some people, paint and write. Get scared some more. Allow your little mind to do nothing but function. Stay inside, go out - I don’t care what you’ll do; but stay scared as hell. You will never be able to experience everything. So, please, do poetic justice to your soul and simply experience yourself.”—Albert Camus (via recklessblood)
You know, a lot of me is simply just talk. I’ve daydreamed about lying in beds and exploring the inside of various mouthes, but won’t even lean forward and kiss a boy in the driver’s seat. I admit to myself that the distant future would be nicer if it included someone I could share a bottle of wine with in the candlelit, after work glow but tell strangers that “I don’t think I’ll ever want to get married.” I pretend that intimacy isn’t something I need, but find myself studying pictures of intertwined bodies for a few seconds too long.
I wonder how long it’ll take for everybody else to catch on to the truth- that I’m thirsty for affection even when I turn down offers from those who claim to be able to quench my thirst.
“Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling. Now no feeling can be relied on to last in its full intensity, or even to last at all. Knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go.”— C.S. Lewis (via medelia)
“And the night smells like snow.
Walking home for a moment
you almost believe you could start again.
And an intense love rushes to your heart,
and hope. It’s unendurable, unendurable.”—Franz Wright, closing lines to “Night Walk” from God’s Silence (via medelia)
“Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn’t stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren’t having any of those.”—Sylvia Plath (via blackbruise)