More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
When the one thing you loved, the career you thought you’d be working towards, crumbled beneath your feet.
In a world short of love, I had to be wanted. I was wanted. I felt wanted. Never loved, no. But I was wanted.
“You look like a painting.”
Maybe I fell in love with the potential of people, not who they really were.
In my head - ag
Best to redirect concern towards the rich who flew in private jets for a fucking tootsie roll.
To enjoy things without looking too deeply as to why you enjoyed them, why they existed – why they made you happy.
I noticed everything.
But how could my poor, little brain do that to me? I wanted nothing more than to be loved.
don’t know what kind of delusional world she was fucking living in.
Men didn’t respond to desperation. They responded to silence.
What are you going to do? Avoid him?” “Yes.”
“Maybe, but you’re like a hue of each other.”
Art galleries were like charcuterie boards; rare that you found the time to spare, to prepare and roll salami into roses and cut cheese into perfect cubes – but when you had the time, it was worth it.
Everything was art in its own way; if you just opened your eyes to see.
She was my match. An equal. A broken piece of myself, a mirrored shard of glass.
Addressing it made it real and I would’ve preferred to live in blind ignorance,
But as time went on, I realized I was waiting for something that would never come.
That was also the moment I realized how little of myself I had left, when I was trying to please everyone else.
He wasn’t mine and yet I claimed him in my head.
