we read books and highlight the lines that speak to us, we listen to music and tattoo the lines that touch us, we turn to poetry and learn the lines that become us; we're all hopelessly inept people, struggling in vain to coherently express ourselves. we know what we want to say but we don't know how.
~ enighma, reason why i write
she was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines.
she was beautiful, for the way she thought.
she was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved.
she was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad.
no, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks.
she was beautiful, deep down to her soul. she is beautiful.
~ f. scott fitzgerald, the beautiful and damned
them, hating me, is hard. they act like it, they speak like it. most of the time.
but you, you pretend that everything is fine.
until you loose control once.
and then you say something that makes me realise that you do, too. you hate me, too.
that hits me harder.
people are so vulnerable at night. they’re willing to spill out their souls to anyone willing to listen. they have desires to do things that never cross their mind when the sun is in the sky.
it's very hard for me to just leave people i love talking to alone for a while.
but i'm so afraid of annoying them to the point they don't wanna talk to me at all.
i wanna be the kind of person people write poems about.
angry like a thunderstorm
sad like the deep blue sea
calm like a lonely walk at night
passionate like a burning flame
and happy like the sun shining and sharing light wherever i go.
but i'm not.
that was one of the saddest things about people--their most important thoughts and feelings often went unspoken and barely understood.
~ alexandra adornetto, halo