paperbackpassages

[paperbackpassages]

Do you know that feeling when it’s summer and it’s too hot and you can’t even remember what cold feels like? That’s how I felt when I was with you. Our lives were so entangled, I couldn’t imagine one without you. But seasons change and people do too.

giulswrites (via giulswrites)

[paperbackpassages]

I rarely post things like this, but I am searching for advice from the writing world! Ever since I was a teenager, I have wanted to write books and be a known author. My mother saved books I wrote about animals when I was younger. The older you get, though, you get lost in the stressful and chaotic world and make up excuses about not having the time or the resources to write like you should. I currently work two jobs and am so tired in my free time I have quit writing completely, but I know it's where my soul belongs, and I know I NEED to try and write a book, but am so afraid of failure or getting lost in life again and not finishing it.

Any advice on how you guys focus or how I can get back into my passion?

[paperbackpassages]

[paperbackpassages]

no one seems to understand her sadness and stress; she’s beautiful and her life seems like a magnificent mess. But things are not always an envious dream; even when you have everything, you can still end up empty.

[paperbackpassages]

“And you know what I’ve realized?” I asked her. “Men are not the most important things in our lives. Who we date, who we end up with is not going to be our greatest achievement. We are made for so much more than that. We do not live to prop men up. We do not live to marry and have children. We are made for more than that. We are made to be free. We are made to change the world. Men are not our world. We do not live for them. We live for ourselves.”

-n.c. // females

[paperbackpassages]

You’re not really free until you’re free from trying to please everybody.

Joel Osteen (via deeplifequotes)

[paperbackpassages]

she was different. she liked reading three books in a day and drinking blackberry wine before bed. she entertained the troubles that danced around in her head. instead of going out and doing shots, she stayed at home, drowned in crime tv and her own thoughts. she was different, and everybody but her could tell; no one could understand her, and she barely understood herself.

[paperbackpassages]

and just like the sun, some days she was great and bright, but other days, spots in the sky clouded her smile and shielded her light.

[paperbackpassages]

[paperbackpassages]

she hated people, but not because of who they were, but because of who she was. she hid from the world for a little while, while everyone else skipped by and smiled. their lives seemed bright and breezy, a place where being happy was easy. from them she felt so far, living in the cold and the dark. she longed to feel hot rays on her face, to live in the light, to be in a clear and mellow place, to exist without a fight.

[paperbackpassages]

It was easy for everyone else to smile and laugh, while it came natural for her to be sad. Everyone else skipped and played in the sun, as she walked in the darkness for fun. She wrote poetry with wet cheeks and dwelled on days of TV; everyone else made plans for weeks and seemed all too simply happy. Could smiles come without pain, or was she just insane? She was tired of life’s sick little games.

[paperbackpassages]

“I don’t know.

I’m just so good at it. At being sad, you know? I’m so good at it, that it makes me feel good. It feels kind of like home. I never have to try to be sad, it’s almost always there, just waiting to come to the surface.

I don’t have to try to be sad, but I have to try to be happy. I have to laugh, I have to smile, I have to add my voice to conversations, I have to seem like I am always happy.

It’s just so much easier to be sad.”

-n.c. // i guess i get that from my father.

[paperbackpassages]

She was tired of begging to be loved, but even when she was, she pushed them all away. She didn’t know why she had such means words to say, why she felt such anger in her soul every day. People wrapped their arms around her, but she still felt so cold and bare; she couldn't figure out why she always stayed quiet, instead of screaming to the world how much she cares. She felt sorry for those around her, who knew and loved her when she was normal, happy; for now she was someone she didn’t even know, someone she never really wanted to be.

[paperbackpassages]

This is beautiful.

[paperbackpassages]

He liked the way she smelled like hairspray, and her eyes looked tired when it rained. She was a mystery, a thriller, an unsettled case; he searched to solve her every day. She would smile and say his name, and go on like things were the same, but inside she was dying; inside, she was going insane.

[paperbackpassages]

She was mean sometimes, but didn’t know why. Her voice cracked as she lashed out, her words spewing with anger and too much wine. She couldn’t sleep at night, tried to run away from her mind. She was afraid of everything, everyone, searching for ways to get by, but her fears always kept her inside, on the ground, even when she wanted to fly. She wondered if she’d ever feel normal, content, smile with intent, if the New Year would bring fewer fears, less shame. So as the clock struck midnight and marked a new slate, she hoped for something better, hoped she’d never be the same.

[paperbackpassages]

I wish it would always rain when things changed. I think that would make things much easier; the world washes away the old, and the new doesn’t hurt quite so much.

Journal Entry; 31 Dec 2017 (via thoughts-into-ink)