I’m so embarrassed by all the pathetic and desperate shit I’ve done in an attempt to feel loved, and I’m more embarrassed that nothing has ever worked.
Sometimes you don't need that final conversation. The fact that they didn't care enough to initiate a talk to clear things up tells you everything you need to know.
Right now life teaching me detachment. Nothing’s really mine. People come and go. Moments pass. Love shifts. It’s all temporary. I’m learning to enjoy things without gripping them too tight. To accept when energy changes. To let go when it’s time.
you must create because the thing you’d make doesn’t exist anywhere else. nobody has your exact combination of experiences and wounds and obsessions, which means the work only you could make is genuinely irreplaceable. if you don’t make it, it simply never exists. the world just goes without it, never knowing what it missed. that’s the most exciting thing about being you. the thing is waiting and you’re the only door it has.