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also something funny… I cried a bit before leaving work today and everyone was like “wow Finn we never expected to see you cry you’re usually so calm and collected” and inside I was just like WHAT THE FUCK I HAD NO IDEA THAT’S THE IMPRESSION I GAVE OUT BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY SO ANXIOUS ALL THE TIME I’M A FUCKING AMAZING ACTRESS
I had my last day of work today and my heart is broken over the thought of never seeing some of my colleagues again :(
The community in Ferguson is struggling to come up with the money to keep their kids fed, since school has been cancelled all this time, yet people have donated over $12,000 to the murderer who started all of this in the last 24 hours alone. Think about that. And then donate to the right cause.
wherever I am I want to be somewhere else
my advice to anyone getting results tomorrow:
Today two nine year-old girls asked me how I get my eyeliner flicks so “perfect” every day. I’m not kidding when I say this was one of the best moments of my life
To know that one does not write for the other, to know that these things I am going to write will never cause me to be loved by the one I love (the other), to know that writing compensates for nothing, sublimates nothing, that it is precisely there where you are not—this is the beginning of writing.
Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse (via tartan-cat)
Rules: In a text post, list ten books that have stayed with you in some way. Don’t take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard — they don’t have to be the “right” or “great” works, just the ones that have touched you. Tag ten (or more) friends, including me, so I’ll see…
1. Banana Yoshimoto - Kitchen
2. Ivan Turgenev - On The Eve
3. Kurt Vonnegut - Timequake
4. Haruki Murakami - South of the Border, West of the Sun
5. John Cage - Silence
6. Patti Smith - Just Kids
7. Franz Kafka - The Metamorphosis
8. Sun-Mi Hwang - The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly
9. Marjane Satrapi - Persepolis
10. Michael Chabon - The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
N.B. The first four authors are writers whose entire bodies of work I cherish and it pains me to have to choose just one book of each of theirs! Anyway, thank you roaringlikethesoundofthesun for tagging me, I’m not going to tag anyone because it will send me into a frenzy over “who is my friend on this site? who will think it’s weird?” so yeah just do it if you think you’re my friend I guess
I was hungover yesterday, with nausea and a terrible headache, but I woke up laughing. I’m not too scared of making friends anymore, and trying not be afraid of losing them. Sometimes the perfect song comes on at the perfect moment as your train is speeding through the suburbs and you have to smile because you know none of this will last, but somehow that doesn’t matter. It seems, in fact, to make it only more beautiful. Then you laugh to stop yourself from crying.
Every emotion hits me deeply. Those two severe depressive episodes were, without a doubt, the worst of my life, and I thought I’d never escape them. (Even after successfully doing just that!) Now sometimes I feel happiness that is so perfect, even a single moment of it seems everlasting. Here I am on the eastbound Central line listening to Michael Nyman’s score for The Piano at full volume and the underground rail is screaming and I feel infinite because I know I will never have this moment again. I’m trying to embrace these emotions rather than suppress them. I laugh loudly with my mouth wide open at terrible jokes and I cry over adverts, I listen to dramatic music and pretend I’m in a film, why the hell wouldn’t you? I feel as if I’ve lived my entire life playing the role of the quiet, shy girl so well that I’ve always believed that’s who I really am, but I suddenly realise now that’s only one part of me. That I am entirely more than that.
I don’t know what I’m really trying to say but I guess I’ve met a few people recently who have made me realise that no one actually has their life together. We all have fears and anxieties. Some may be more pronounced than others, but no one is free from worry. I wrote in my journal this morning, “the desire to escape exists somewhere in all of us, but we deal with it in very different ways”. And I feel horribly pretentious typing that so I’ll go now. Hell, I’m terrified, but for once in my life I’m going to be EXCITED about that, rather than letting it beat me.