“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”—Henry David Thoreau (via rememberwhenwewerekids)
“I’ve never been lonely. I’ve been in a room - I’ve felt suicidal. I’ve been depressed. I’ve felt awful - awful beyond all - but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me…or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I’ve never been bothered with because I’ve always had this terrible itch for solitude. It’s being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I’ll quote Ibsen, “The strongest men are the most alone.” I’ve never thought, “Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I’ll feel good.” No, that won’t help. You know the typical crowd, “Wow, it’s Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?” Well, yeah. Because there’s nothing out there. It’s stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I’ve never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn’t want to hide in factories. That’s all. Sorry for all the millions, but I’ve never been lonely. I like myself. I’m the best form of entertainment I have. Let’s drink more wine!”
sometimes, i fear that god has condemned me to live a very long life. and i know that the only thing keeping me here is the fear of death that he must have instilled in me. i don’t know where it came from. i used to be so fearless. every night i lie awake and try to list every person that would miss me if i was gone. imagine all the words i would never write, all the stories i would never read. does anyone know the feeling of wanting everyone to care about you, but when everyone starts caring you wish they would stop…
for the first time in almost 3 years. i don’t remember how it feels to not be taking pills. i don’t remember what real, natural fatigue feels like. only the feeling of sleeping pills filling up my brain and drugging me to sleep. my nights have revolved around pills for too long. tonight, i will be free. i don’t know if i can put into words how hard this decision was for me to make. but i’m determined. i don’t need this shit in my life any longer.
also, i’m down 7 pounds just this week. a little proof that things can get better and you can get rid of the demons in your life if you really try.
I come here and imagine that this is the spot where everything I’ve lost since my childhood has washed up. I tell myself if that were true and I waited long enough then a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field and gradually get larger until I’d see it was Tommy. He’d wave and maybe call. I don’t let the fantasy go beyond that. I can’t let it. I remind myself I was lucky to have had any time with him at all.
What I’m not sure about is if our lives have been so different from the lives of the people we save. We all complete. Maybe none of us really understand what we’ve lived through. Or feel we’ve had enough time.
everytime i stop writing i think a part of me just dies. i should never stop. not even for a few days. it’s so good for me, it gets me through the day sometimes. i hate when i feel so awful i can’t even find the energy to write. i have to do it. i’m not the same when i don’t.