I once wrote a thing I was sort of embarrassed about. Then one day I decided to see if being bold would be more fun than being embarrassed.
You’re doing it because you don’t want to get this far and realize it was for nothing. But it wasn’t. It’s important to remember that every time you say, “why am I doing this to myself,” that beneath the guilt and shame, there is acknowledgment of worth. And aside from the phrasing and word choice, there is acknowledgment of hope.~ Date By Numbers
But how do you remember that it doesn’t make you feel good? Well first of all, drink less.
I have conducted rigorous testing on this hypothesis. It is scientifically valid: Drinking less = less stories about that stuff you did because you were drinking BUT ALSO less tears and more feeling awesome about being you in general. There’s some other variables to consider and certainly outliers here and there but researchers tend to agree, drinking is generally why you did that thing that made you upset or sad or sorry.
Be forewarned that if you ever break the heart of a writer, you too will be the unwilling victim of open heart surgery via prose.DateByNumbers (via jenandtonic)
The mountains loomed in the distance and I counted the scars on my legs, trying to remember every stumble. I had no course. I never did. But wherever it was I was going, I would get there. I would get there by playlists, by long rides, by plane tickets, by passion, by saying I love you, by standing up for myself, by doing what was wrong and then doing what was right, by doing what was selfish and then doing what was noble, I would get there.
I would get there and I would be fine. And then I would be good. And pretty soon after that, I would be lightning.
Today I woke up to sharp words from a person who has never once brought out the good in me. I’d wondered for nearly a year where the story would end and I finally found out this morning: at one of the highest points in southern California, my smile wide and integrity maintained.
So when I think about falling in love, I also think about all the things that happened because I wasn’t in love, because there was no one to ask me to stay.
You’re not tired of dating; you’re just tired. You’re tired of bearing the weight alone. You’re tired of an empty apartment and dinner for one. You’re tired of ricocheting off yourself and slugging shots at the bar. You’re tired of playing dress up with no one to dress you down. You’re tired of the excruciating loneliness that creeps onto tingling skin, begging for touch like sucking for air. And so am I. So is she. So is he, and that girl, and those boys, and so many other people you see on the train, in the market, across the table. But we keep doing it because it’s worth it, because it’s everything, because for all the awkward hellos and terrible dinners, there’s one flawed masterpiece who’s singing your harmony…Dear DateByNumbers on CollegeCandy (via datebynumbers)
Of course I wanted to be in love, of course I wanted to have someone light up my night in the darkest hours, of course, of course I did. But I wanted a novel, I wanted a story in motion, and I didn’t want that love to be the end of the story. I wanted him to be a character and I wanted our novels to crash together and rivet us. I wanted to be bewildered and have my breath stolen and the rug ripped out from under me and to read him top to bottom for the rest of time. I didn’t want the prepackaged combined income and health benefits home in the good school district. People told me I would want these things by now. And I tried to. But I exhausted myself trying to be what they wanted.
On Longing (Date By Numbers)
It’s like this little lady lives inside my head, articulating the thoughts I can’t quite get out.