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When all by myself, I can think of all kinds of clever remarks, quick comebacks to what no one said, and flashes of witty sociability with nobody. But all of this vanishes when I face someone in the flesh: I lose my intelligence, I can no longer speak, and after half an hour I just feel tired. Talking to people makes me feel like sleeping. Only my ghostly and imaginary friends, only the conversations I have in my dreams, are genuinely real and substantial…. — Fernando Pessoa (via corophagia)

(Source: fernsandmoss, via corophagia)

You are not brave because you said no, or brave because you ran away, or because you looked love in the face and said “not today.” There is nothing courageous about the way you left me, open handed, palms outwards, waiting. I was standing at your door and I was saying “I will take you as you are if you will do the same for me.” You didn’t know how to. No one had taught you that wanting someone desperately is like sliding out of your clothes and out of your skin and laying yourself at their feet. All skin and no walls. All soul and no teeth, no metal, no keys. No one had shown you how lovely vulnerability can be. How proud it is to be naked in front of someone. Fully clothed, naked. Arms full of heart. Heart full of rain. Body like an olive branch, I am telling you that I love you today. I am telling you that I am not scared to be fragile in front of you. I am telling you that I trust you to look after my gentle. Keep it safe, don’t keep it hidden. They say that giving your name to someone is giving them power over you. I wrote my name on your wrists. I wrote it in your mouth. Whispered it into your ear. I said “here, this is who I am, do what you will with it. I am not scared. I am not frightened.” Even then, even after that, in that quiet rain filled room I watched you stitch yourself back up again and turn away, I watched you do it without me. I kept my hands open anyway, just in case. Here, the mattress is asking you what you’re doing. Here, the walls have known how you sound when you murmur my name. Here, everything is wondering where your brave is. Where has your courage gone? Where is your wolf? I know that you can feel in colours that haven’t been invented yet. I know that you’re trembling beneath your soldier body. I would have loved you enough for the both of us. Until then, I will run through the streets after dark holding a sign that says ‘I SURVIVED LOVING A MAN WHO DID NOT KNOW HOW TO LOVE ME BACK AND IT WAS GLORIOUS.’ — Azra.T “not leaving your heart wide open was the most cowardly thing you’ll ever do”  (via 5000letters)

(via injection)

When you start to know someone, all their physical characteristics start to disappear. You begin to dwell in their energy, recognize the scent of their skin. You see only the essence of the person, not the shell. That’s why you can’t fall in love with beauty. You can lust after it, be infatuated by it, want to own it. You can love it with your eyes and your body but not your heart. And that’s why, when you really connect with a person’s inner self, any physical imperfections disappear, become irrelevant. — Lisa Unger, Beautiful Lies 

(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via injection)

nowdestroy:

I lived on an island. Life on an island is not an endless holiday, the way people fantasize about it. I used to take long walks near the water, sand was getting caught inside my shoes, while the sun was lowering down close to the ground and the colors reflected on the skin of my bald head. I used to sit on a bench on the beach, look straight ahead at the horizon, and I saw nothing.

True beauty is on the inside, where everything is red, and glistening, and full of practical organs and sharp rocks. —

(Source: nightvalequotes, via gebeine)

There is no ‘human individual.’ There is a psyche that is socialized and, in this socialization, in the final result, there is almost nothing individual in the true sense of the term. — Cornelius Castoriadis 

(Source: jacobwren, via 1109-83)

Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear. — George Addair

(Source: archatlas, via aoimei)

I enjoy controlled loneliness. I like wandering around the city alone. I’m not afraid of coming back to an empty flat and lying down in an empty bed. I’m afraid of having no one to miss, of having no one to love. — Kuba Wojewodzki, Polish journalist and comedian (via dysenterygay)

(Source: ughbenedict, via athingcalledjoe)

Men have become the tools of their tools. —

Henry David Thoreau

US Transcendentalist author (1817 - 1862)

(via darksilenceinsuburbia)

There are no eternal facts, as there are no absolute truths. — Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

(Source: quotedojo, via bonging)