Unless It's Mad, Passionate, Extraordinary Love, It's A Waste Of Time.

Unless it's mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it's a waste of time.

There are too many mediocre things in life and LOVE shouldn't be one of them.

✨manifesting a fairytale love🩷🤲🏻

𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞:

lose your innocence:⁠-⁠)

not trust anyone ever again:⁠-⁠)

wonder what makes you so unlovable(even if for a split second):⁠-⁠)

live your life in a constant state of survival:⁠-⁠)

question everything you thought you knew:⁠-⁠)

think about all the ways it could've been different:⁠-⁠)

ask yourself if it's worth going on with all the pain:⁠-⁠)

wake up each morning and contemplate the same.

so, no! what doesn't kill you doesn't always make you stronger:⁠-⁠)

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

"Man shouldn't be able to see his own face- there's nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes.

Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic; he had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself.

The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart. "

- Fernando Pessoa

the way 'humbling and looking at yourself and being accountable for one's own wrong doing' is symbolised through bending over and stooping down has me on chokehold...because some people really do need to humble themselves :⁠-⁠)

currently obsessed with the concept of not reacting to everything. i'm going to 'oh ok' my way outta uninteresting things now thanks. 🙂‍↕️

— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a letter to Arthur Davison Ficke featured in Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay.

...and then you just have to be okay with all of it and make yourself understand that it's all for the good and you'll get through it anyhow,,,that you've still got people who genuinely love and support you but your brain keeps on repeating that this isn't the answer to the question it asked!

Don't you just hate it when you think you're getting better, but then that one phone call from home, one glimpse of that person, that one song you swore you'd never hear again creeps back into your life and drags you back to square one?

The worst part of it all is that at some point, you don't even blame anyone except yourself. If only you could catch yourself by the collar, look into your own eyes, and smack some sense into that brain of yours, asking yourself,

“Haven't we been through enough already? How long do you want to grieve?”

And why does it only happen to some of us? That seems like the most unfair part of it all, doesn't it? You read all these quotes where people talk about how they've been through the same shit, but they look so whole, so graceful, and here you are with pent-up rage and guilt — asking yourself not ‘why me’ but ‘why only me?’