Focus. Focus. Breathe.

THE FEAR OF IGNORANCE: Not knowing about the world, not knowing how to write, not knowing how to function, not knowing how to take a chance, not knowing how to speak my mind, not knowing how to think, not knowing how to feel, not knowing how to be passionate, not knowing about life, not knowing how to remember, not knowing anything.
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22/365 by -justbreathe on Flickr.

(via turbide)

Do you know what people really want? Everyone, I mean. Everybody in the world is thinking: I wish there was just one other person I could really talk to, who could really understand me, who’d be kind to me. That’s what people really want, if they’re telling the truth.
Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook  (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)

I wish I could write. I get these ideas but I never seem to be able to put them in words.
F. Scott Fitzgerald   (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)

When I think about identity I think about aesthetic and taste. At some point in a writer’s young life she reads something that resembles a waterfall. She says, I want to do that. Or, if she’s already been doing it, she says, I am not alone; I have permission. And that’s fine and good. She walks the trail. Eventually she meets someone who insists, That’s not a waterfall.

When I was in college all I really wanted to read was Charles Bukowski and John Fante, plus some beat poetry, along with certain plays by Sam Shepard. I’d learned at an early age to be dismissive of other people. I was a history major and when, in my junior year, I started meeting creative writing majors they looked at what I was looking at, shook their heads dismissively, and said, That’s not a waterfall. So I looked at what they were looking at, Which was first and foremost Raymond Carver (I went to the University of Illinois from 1990 to 1994). I laughed at them congregating in front of the English building and said, That’s not a waterfall, that’s not even a puddle. That’s a pile of shit.

Six or seven years later I only wanted to read Raymond Carver. It turns out there was no waterfall. The moral of this story is don’t pay attention to anyone that laughs at your taste. Even if you listen to Nickleback.

Stephen Elliott, The Daily Rumpus, 4/5/14 (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)


Do you ever feel like you’re merely walking through life and not really living it completely? You wake up dreading Mondays and every day you wish it’s tomorrow already or for the weekend to come even though the week has just started again. You brush off the little good things that happen, like…

I keep cancelling dates. I fry eggs alone in the dark kitchen on weekdays, sunrise just barely breaking blue and yellow behind the treeline out the back window, and in that moment love myself so much that I can’t decide if maybe I’d rather be alone forever, me and the eggs perfectly crispy around the edges and Jess’ New Yorker to read at the linoleum kitchen table, me alone forever and constantly running a little late to work.
In the quiet, I start to tell myself stories, again. I start, in stray moments, sometimes, shyly, to write them down. Running by the river, and the cherry trees fluffy and wanton with enough pollen to choke in the back of my throat almost like a strong emotion.
Don’t think about what can happen in a month. Don’t think about what can happen in a year. Just focus on the 24 hours in front of you and do what you can to get closer to where you want to be.
Eric Thomas  (via thatkindofwoman)

(via springgreens)

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.
Some steps need to be taken alone. It’s the only way to really figure out where you need to go and who you need to be.
Mandy Hale (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)