Saturday, April 30

Those mood swings are really something aren't they? That superficial happiness is the best thing you've come across in as long as you can remember and it's beautiful. it's like you're floating in pink clouds eating candies and dancing like your life depends on it. And in that moment in time you feel invincible and nothing can get to you, you feel like you can bring the whole world together and make a ground-breaking difference in this chaos you live in. But just then melancholy tints your euphoria and it feels like you're falling, falling, falling back to the ground and a great big hand is clutching at your heart as it weeps and weeps and weeps.

Now you’re here and everything we touch explodes, bursts into bloom or burns to ash. History atomizes and negates itself with our every shared breath. I need you like life needs life. I want you bad like a natural disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know. 
— Henry Rollins 

I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they’re here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mean way. In a curious way. It’s like looking at all the students and wondering who’s had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report due on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why. 
— Stephen Chbosky (The Perks of Being a Wallflower)

Tell me you don’t drag that blade across your skin and pray for the courage to press down. 
— Girl, Interrupted 

I have been, or seemed, hard with everyone because I was carried away by a sort of brutality born of my distrust in myself and my ill-humor. I have felt so badly equipped, so soft, in spite of the fact that my attitude towards art seemed to me so just. I was disgusted with everyone, and especially myself. 
— Edgar Degas

“Three decades of research on men’s sexual arousal show patterns that clearly track sexual orientation — gay men overwhelmingly become sexually aroused by images of men and heterosexual men by images of women. In other words, men’s sexual arousal patterns seem obvious.
But a new Northwestern University study boosts the relatively limited research on women’s sexuality with a surprisingly different finding regarding women’s sexual arousal.
In contrast to men, both heterosexual and lesbian women tend to become sexually aroused by both male and female erotica, and, thus, have a bisexual arousal pattern.”

I’m not ashamed of it — why should I be? … I’ve always swung both ways … I don’t call myself bisexual: I’m just experimental. I was always looking for somebody to sweep me off my feet, but then I got bored after two months and was on to the next. 
— Abbey-Lee Kershaw

Through bashfulness, suspicion, and timorousness, will not be seen abroad; loves darkness as life and cannot endure the light or to sit in lightsome places; his hat still in his eyes, he will neither see, nor be seen by his good will. He dare not come in company for fear he should be misused, disgraced, overshoot himself in gesture or speeches, or be sick; he thinks every man observes him. 
— Hippocrates

I grew up feeling immune and exempt from circumstance. One of the things I suffered from was that I never felt adversity. I was confirmed in a sense of unreality. Diane Arbus

The girl never really lived, and so she has never really died. To you at least she was always a dream, a phantom that flitted through Shakespeare’s plays and left them lovelier for its presence, a reed through which Shakespeare’s music sounded richer and more full of joy. The moment she touched actual life, she marred it, and it marred her, and so she passed away. Mourn for Ophelia, if you like. Put ashes on your head because Cordelia was strangled. Cry out against Heaven because the daughter of Brabantio died. But don’t waste your tears over Sibyl Vane. She was less real than they are.