a

[unknownlogophile]

—that’s stupid, there’s nothing I can say about it. This is what I have to avoid, I must not put in strangeness where there is none. I think that is the big danger in keeping a diary: you exaggerate everything. You continually force the truth because you’re always looking for something.

Jean-Paul Sartre

[unknownlogophile]

The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.

— Mikko Harvey

[unknownlogophile]

This was it. We were going to make love. Even though I hated that term and thought it was cheesy. But love was what I felt, and right then, I felt like my heart was too big for my body, so overfilled with happiness and excitement that it might burst.

— Tamara Lush

[unknownlogophile]

I don’t want the paper to close on my watch. Ink is in my blood, and I’m fighting like hell to rescue my family’s legacy.

— Tamara Lush

[unknownlogophile]

“There might never be enough time for me to unpack my complicated feelings for him and how we ended.”

— Tamara Lush

[unknownlogophile]

“What am I trying to hide exactly? Surprise? Anger? Desire? — All three, truth be told. And so many more.”

— Tamara Lush

[unknownlogophile]

“The enormity of it all leaves me at once unsteady and detached, as though I’d been plucked from my safe world and plopped into a different dimension altogether, one where the laws of sense and sanity don’t exist.”

— Tamara Lush

[unknownlogophile]

“I am awfully greedy; I want everything from life. I want to be a woman and to be a man, to have many friends and to have loneliness, to work much and write good books, to travel and enjoy myself, to be selfish and to be unselfish… You see, it is difficult to get all which I want. And then when I do not succeed I get mad with anger.”

— Simone de Beauvoir

[unknownlogophile]

“This kind of emotional autonomy is terrifying, because it means that if you mess up, it’s all on you. At the same time, realizing it is the only way to be truly free. The risk is worth the reward on this one, always”

101 Essays That Will Change The Way You Think by Brianna West

[unknownlogophile]

[unknownlogophile]

“some of the realest things are the ones we never dare speak a soul”

—unknownlogophile

[unknownlogophile]

“if I don't daydream, I'd simply die from this thing called reality”

— me, just me;

[unknownlogophile]

it's not the fear of being seen, it's the fear of their reaction when they find out what's beyond the facade.

if you see my emotions bare and unfiltered — will you hold me still ?

if you figure out what really goes in my mind — will you look at me the same ?

if I let my guard down and let you see me — will you stay ?

if you're unsure then let me walk away, I'm good at that.

[unknownlogophile]

the art in the way writers articulate their thoughts and poets transform their pain and anguish into an unforgettable line that seeps in the cracks of our fragile hearts.

[unknownlogophile]

the sexual tension between me and using excessive words on my homework. you don't get it!!! THEY'RE SEDUCING ME!!! AND I MUST WRITE THEM DOWN!!!

[unknownlogophile]

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson

“The opposite of every other book. Don’t try. Give up. Be wrong. Stop believing in yourself. Follow the pain. And oh yeah, kill yourself. Each point is profoundly true, useful, and more powerful than the usual positivity. Succinct but surprisingly deep, I read it in one night, and now need to read it again.” – Derek Sivers

[unknownlogophile]

Addiction.

Is a parasite, a deadly one.

Or better yet, a shadow overcasting your better judgment.

It's selfish, it craves & gets more powerful every time it succeeds.

It's a liar whispering "one last time" every chance it gets.

It's knowing the word control and losing it.

Being impulsive becomes second nature.

It doesn't even end because once you're out, the shadow rides on your shoulder, whispering.

Before you know it. you're back where you started.

Falling in deep, as if in a trance,

seeing a big wide door for escape but never reaching out.

— an excerpt from a book I will never write