Living in dorms with thin walls made me realise that most of us are hurting with different kind of wounds. Those late night phone calls on the other side, you don’t have to see them to know that they’re bleeding. The tone of their voice is enough to tell a story.
You don’t quite know how it began, or how it will end eventually. But the muffled voice tells you more than you need to know. Strings of declaration such as “I love you”, “I care about you”, “I miss you” followed by redemption. “I’m sorry”, “I want this to work”, “Tell me what to do”, “I want to fix this too”.
I think that if you love someone, if you love them with all your heart, you’d give them things that you didn’t know existed within you.
The potential to have that much of love within a fist sized heart; scares me.
You know when you think about life and think about how we are born here and why we even are here. When you think about how big the world is, how many stars there must be and how we are all humans on this same little planet just trodding through life. How we die, we go into a grave and we are never…
“You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place, I told him, like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.”—Azar Nafisi (Reading Lolita in Tehran)