“I think she was afraid to love sometimes. I think it scared her. She was the type to like things that were concrete, like the ocean. Something you could point to and know what it is. I think that’s why she always struggled with God. And I think that’s why she also struggled with love. She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t hold on to it and make sure it never changed. But sometimes it’s those things you can’t touch that you need to hold on to the most.”—Carrie Ryan (via aeloquence)
“Sometimes I get tired of trying to convince him that I love him and shall love him for ever. He pounces on my words like a barrister and twists them. I know he is afraid of that desert which would be around him if our love were to end, but he can’t realize that I feel exactly the same. What he says aloud, I say to myself silently and write it here.”—The End of the Affair by Graham Greene (via thechocolatebrigade)
“There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness. When you’re high it’s tremendous. The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars, and you follow them until you find better and brighter ones. Shyness goes, the right words and gestures are suddenly there, the power to captivate others a felt certainty. There are interests found in uninteresting people. Sensuality is pervasive and the desire to seduce and be seduced irresistible. Feelings of ease, intensity, power, well-being, financial omnipotence, and euphoria pervade one’s marrow. But, somewhere, this changes. The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Memory goes. Humor and absorption on friends’ faces are replaced by fear and concern. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against— you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable, and enmeshed totally in the blackest caves of the mind. You never knew those caves were there. It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.”—An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness by Kay Redfield Jamison (via thechocolatebrigade)
“I like the stars. It’s the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they’re always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend…I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds don’t last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. But I can pretend…”—Neil Gaiman (via thechocolatebrigade)
Sometimes, words mean so much that it leaves you tongue tied. Your mouth is opened, but nothing is coming out. All you feel that stab in your chest and those tears pushing out of your eyes. Sometimes, words mean so little that you can’t even construct a simple sentence to express what you’re feeling. So you just sit there with your mouth shut, so you just cry to yourself, so you just eat your feelings, so you just give in even if it kills you inside.
Easy ready willing overtime When does it stop, where do you dare me to draw the line? You got the body now you want my soul Don’t even think about it say no go Yeah I, I’ll do anything that you want me to Yeah I’ll do almost anything that you want me to Yeah, but I can’t go for that
“Haven’t you learned anything, not even with the approach of death? Stop thinking all the time that you’re in the way, that you’re bothering the person next to you. If people don’t like it, they can complain. And if they don’t have the courage to complain, that’s their problem.”—Veronika Decides to Die by Paulo Coelho (via thechocolatebrigade)
“Its so hard to talk when you want to kill yourself. That’s above and beyond everything else, and it’s not a mental complaint-it’s a physical thing, like it’s physically hard to open your mouth and make the words come out. They don’t come out smooth and in conjunction with your brain the way normal people’s words do; they come out in chunks as if from a crushed-ice dispenser; you stumble on them as they gather behind your lower lip. So you just keep quiet.”—It’s Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini (via thechocolatebrigade)