“You have to stop believing that you need other people’s permission to be okay with yourself. That however you do or don’t align with what other people value determines your worth. That however the world does or doesn’t show you kindness is a direct reflection of how much you deserve it. You have to be kind to yourself. Even, and probably most especially, when it seems least deserved.”—Brianna Wiest, You Have To Be Kindest To Yourself When It Seems Least Deserved
westerners are obsessed with the idea of happiness as if it’s a constant state of being. happiness comes in moments. you dont “achieve” happiness. you experience it along with every other emotion on the spectrum. if you spend your life chasing this constructed idea of happiness you will never even be remotely content. work on being whole and feeling everything while increasing the happy moments. stop trying to be a “happy person.” just be a person.
“Although I would much rather paint pictures than heal humans, there’s no denying the truth that doctors make more money than artists, and I have that little voice in the back of my head, screaming, “don’t fuck up your life just to do something you love”. And I realize, now, that maybe the voice has been speaking of you too.”—Personal (K.P.K)
“I start to see that I surround myself with broken people; more broken than me. Ah, yes, let me count your cracks. Let’s see, one hundred, two… yes, you’ll do nicely. A cracked companion makes me look more whole, gives me something outside myself to care for. When I’m with whole, healed people I feel my own cracks, the shatters, the insanities of dislocation in myself.”—Julie Gregory, Sickened: The Memoir of a Munchausen by Proxy Childhood
“At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare”—Caitlin Moran