Quotes added on Sunday, October 23 2016

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I hate who I'm becoming
"i don't care your intentions. I just want you to know my self-hatred never took me where I wanted to go. At the end of the day...I can pick at the pain but I can't cut it away."
Timing doesn't matter to things that have already happened.
But timing is everything to things that never had the chance to start.

He’ll break your rules so softly you won’t realize what he’s done. He’ll leave every piece of truth you thought you knew strewn across the floor, and mix it with lies so you can’t tell what’s what. When you look back all you’ll see is papery white sheets with lines you promised you wouldn’t let anyone cross. And every flashback will be him crossing another one.

fall in love with
ordinary. Fall in love with the everyday. Fall in love with brown eyes and small towns and a hand full of dandelions. Discover. Discover the crevices. Read the books that aren’t so popular, by little known authors who have a lot to offer. Listen to music that makes you think. Choose art that is buried in the corner of galleries, or on the street. Teach yourself to love the small things. The special but unnoticed things. Teach yourself how the ordinary is not so ordinary after all.

Sometimes you think you're giving a person the world but you're not.
Sometimes your world is not their world.

YOU WERE THIRTEEN, lying on her bed swearing you’d be best friends forever. Nowadays you barely talk. Nowadays you pass each other with your heads shoved down, like strangers who are scared to make a noise. The inside of her bedroom is no longer pastel pink; she no longer wears her hair long. You can’t remember the exact moment you stopped sharing secrets, all you know is you no longer know her favorite song. You can’t remember the exact moment things changed, or whether there was an exact moment at all. But these days you pass each other in the corridors and thirteen year old you wonders what went wrong.


I can hear them
memories are speaking
they whisper softly
voices always there
shadows in the dark
dark on dark contrasted
fading into me
moment to moment
seducing my thoughts
holding me
swirling glitters of doubt
dreams I dare not dream
enticing daemons
angels unaware
and despair
carving my duality
a ghost in the life of my friends
piercing my sanity
the source of my pain and strength
He’s not the ‘forever’ type. He’ll take you to a park on your first date and ask you to dance to Hungry Eyes, and he’ll say ‘gosh, you’re intelligent – you’re not just smart, you’re intelligent’ and he’ll say it like there’s actually a difference. On the second date he’ll make you fall in love. Not the ‘real’ kind of love but the heart racing, take-your-breath-away kind that says, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone like this again.’ The cruelest thing he’ll do is let you believe you have a special place in his heart. He’ll call at 10am or 10pm or halfway through dinner. He’ll call and your heart will lurch and you’ll swoon and laugh and pretend it didn’t hurt when he didn’t turn up last Saturday. He’ll call and you’ll drop your ego like you drop your knife and fork, and you’ll run straight to his front door. And standing on his porch, you’ll smooth over your skirt and hair, and bite your bottom lip like a schoolgirl who hasn’t learnt her lesson, and he’ll answer the door and say, come, meet my friend. I’m teaching her to dance. She likes Hungry Eyes too.

—Sue Zhao


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