memos to my heart

I can’t deceive myself out of the bare stark realization that no matter how enthusiastic you are, no matter how sure that character is fate, nothing is real, past or future, when you are alone in your room with the clock ticking loudly into the false cheerful brilliance of the electric light. And if you have no past or future, which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide.

Sometimes people let the same problem make them miserable for years when they could just say, ‘So what.’ That’s one of my favorite things to say. ‘So what.’

So please, just be patient. I’m so afraid to care about someone. I know it seems like I’m this strong girl who can get through everything, but inside, I’m very fragile. I’ve had so many things thrown at me and each one has only made a crack. What I’m afraid of is shattering.

I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can’t feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often.

This is a story of a girl who turned out wrong, because she only loved things that couldn’t love her back.

its sad when people you know, become people you knew, when you can walk right past someone like they were never a big part of your life, how you used to be able to talk for hours and now you can barely look at them