The kindest thing literature does is remind you that your peculiar little feelings have always existed. Someone, in some century, was equally confused by love, bored by society, tired of performing, and hungry for meaning.
when i'm mad from my perspective but i can also see their perspective so now i’m carrying double the emotional weight and being eaten away by my anger and empathy
you don’t realize how much your environment affects your mental state until you finally spend time somewhere that feels calm and your body stops feeling tense for once