Supportez d’être appelée une nerveuse. Vous appartenez à cette famille magnifique et lamentable qui est le sel de la terre. Tout ce que nous connaissons de grand nous vient des nerveux. Ce sont eux et non pas d’autres qui ont fondé les religions et composé les chefs-d’œuvre. Jamais le monde ne saura tout ce qu’il leur doit et surtout ce qu’eux ont souffert pour le lui donner. Nous goûtons les fines musiques, les beaux tableaux, mille délicatesses, mais nous ne savons pas ce qu’elles ont coûté, à ceux qui les inventèrent, d’insomnies, de pleurs, de rires spasmodiques, d’urticaires, d’asthmes, d’épilepsies, d’une angoisse de mourir qui est pire que tout cela, et que vous connaissez peut-être, Madame

Marcel Proust, “Le Côté de Guermantes”

"I’m not gonna Instagram this." I found a cool insect thingy it’s cool guys.

"I’m not gonna Instagram this." I found a cool insect thingy it’s cool guys.

The return of droopy hair. AKA I’m an idiot and I’m bored.

The return of droopy hair. AKA I’m an idiot and I’m bored.

Sometimes when I speak, and when I think, I feel arrogant, empty. Like there’s something my mind wants to convey, but it keeps getting tripped up and jumbled on the way out. And I judge, and I look at others from such a subjective point of view. Sometimes it can’t be helped, right? I can only really see things from my own perspective, I know. But often, it feels wrong. It is wrong. The way we elevate ourselves to this weird pedestal, simply because we can’t truly see some things through others’ eyes. And I don’t consider myself an arrogant or self centered person, or thoughtless, or inconsiderate. But there are moments when I have to remind myself: I am not more right. I am not more anything. Not nobler, not more ethical, not more caring, not more thoughtful, not more observant, not more intelligent. Not more anything. I’m just me. That’s it. I only know me. I only have the right to judge myself and to make decisions for myself and make opinions about myself. I don’t want to have to remind myself that, though. I guess I usually don’t. In the end, I conclude that I need to shut up and listen way more often than I do. So that’s what I’ll do now. K bye.

I just need to stay away.
From people that would
Take my words and 
Rip them from 
My circumstances
While adding their own.
Those that could 
Take my own actions and
From them, carefully,
Create a weapon so dangerous
It could penetrate flesh
And infiltrate the spirit. 
The ones that do
More harm than good. 
Those that would
Stir my mind
So as to have me believe
That I’m anything short of
Quite capable. 
Quite caring.
Flawed, but
A little messy, a little skeptical
And yes, capable of hurting others.
But overall, pretty alright.
And maybe, just maybe
Sort of fantastic. 

So I guess, in that sense, I am, myself, the one I should stay away from the most.

We try to hold on to things, things like love, religion, truth, moments, and principles, as if they were absolute, constant. That is one of our biggest flaws. But we have to realize the inevitable: things change. They fade, they break, they are mended, or their context is altered. They can worsen, as they can improve. But they will always change. Try to make peace with it. Maybe then our lives, our souls, our minds could be a little healthier?

If you look at the fact that you have a roof over your head, food to eat, that you are young and beautiful and live in a peaceful land, then no, you have nothing to be sad about. But the fact is, we are not only a physical body, we have souls too, and sometimes our souls get sick. If you break a leg you don’t just say “I have no reason to have a broken leg” and ignore it; you seek help. It’s the same when your soul gets hurt. Don’t apologize for being sad.

My doctor when I told her I had no reason to be sad (via hrive-ithiliel)


(via drugaddictsdaughter)

I don’t often reblog things but this is. Yeah.

(via branchedthoughts)