My Friends
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Read between August 2 - August 10, 2025
2%
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There is a sort of happiness so overwhelming that it is almost unbearable, your soul seems to kick its way through your bones.
5%
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Because in an ugly place, he was born with so much beauty inside him that it was like an act of rebellion. In a world full of sledgehammers, his art was a declaration of war.
6%
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The man looks frightened, but the cat just looks very annoyed, as if Louisa has spilled milk over its stamp collection.
9%
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We’re a bunch of lonely apes on a rock in the universe, our breath consists of eighty percent nitrogen, twenty percent oxygen, and one hundred percent anxiety.
9%
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Imagination is the only thing that stops us from thinking about death every second. And when we aren’t thinking? Oh, those are all our very best moments, when we’re wasting our lives. It’s an act of magnificent rebellion to do meaningless things, to waste time, to swim and drink soda and sleep late. To be silly and frivolous, to laugh at stupid little jokes and tell stupid little stories.
19%
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They were twelve years old when they met Ted, when Joar rode his bicycle into him, because Joar was good at a lot of things, but bad at braking. “Meet” is probably the wrong word, no one met Joar, because you don’t “meet” a natural disaster, you get hit by it.
25%
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Stupid little jokes, silliness between soulmates, everything else is just meaningless gaps in a life.
43%
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Now that the train is moving again, Ted feels envious of all the people living in the houses it passes, because they’re already home.
48%
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you shouldn’t get angry with lazy people. They haven’t done anything!”
61%
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The taxi driver’s eyes sparkle as wildly as a badger’s after a double espresso.
64%
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“Everyone say: Don’t go to bed angry! But you know, if you hold hand, very hard to be angry for long, you know? So you hold hand, when you go for walk, when you watch TV. You hold hand, so you know: You and me. Always.”
73%
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They were like two colors. Once they were mixed together, there was no way of separating them.”
84%
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It’s a funny thing. The person we fall in love with, we hardly ever call by their name. Because it’s somehow just so obvious that it’s you I’m talking to, that it’s you I’m always thinking of. Who else?