Drive yourself mad

Drive yourself, drive yourself mad, even as lana del rey sings her tragic tunes, and becomes the voice in your head, drive yourself mad putting an end to those guilty pleasures that are destroying your body, why, even your soul; drive yourself deep into your petty depression thus, until all you have to get high on is what you crafted with your own hands. And then, maybe then, a different kind of heaven will open up for you.



Stuff to run to


Girl on the edge



The Year of Magical Thinking (Joan Didion)


Norah Jones




The desperate need for wise leadership

Nobody cares, and they never will.

Edit, edit, edit.

Hide, hide, hide.

Hide those inadequacies, those uncool needs, that constant need for validation, those people you put on a pedestal though not worship (well that’s some progress there).

Will my cracks ever let light in?


Rooting out BPD

  • Avoid thinking in extremes – if its 80% say 80% not 100%, if its bad say bad not horrid
  • Ask why you are feeling a certain way – determine root causes – avoid or repeat as appropriate

Learning how to learn: This – this need to know theory before application – is all getting way too meta!


What is confidence but faith in your journey, the sort of faith that comes when you know you’ve tried your hardest to reach the goals etched upon your soul given the path you were thrown? It is the courage to voice your truth to the world, at the risk of being proven wrong.

Fake it till you make it is really good advice.




People want their stuff in neat boxes and categories; easy to skim and easy to consume.

But my thoughts, they’re messy, they jump from place to place. And that is how they will appear on paper – jumpily.

Today, I’m feeling very Tier II. I think it is important that I protect myself against people that trigger this feeling in me, that make me feel less than ideal, until I’m strong enough.

If you play “smile” backwards, its bound to sound a lot like “fight”.

I suspect something dies in us when we deny ourselves novelties of the sort that matter to us. Usually, we find out too late.



My war is against a cancer stick

My definition of bravery has become a Facebook post.

I’m itching to scream, and be heard.

I just want to be known, and accepted despite.

I don’t want to hide anymore.

I miss friends, and real conversation.

Go, meet strangers. And children. Fall in love with innocence – the stuff is addictive, I think.

Amid all this hiding, I’m forgetting to live.

Experience the new each day. Meet someone new each day. We’re all itching for new experiences. The predictable dull drone that has become your life – it is imperative that you break loose – and experience a new facet of this mysterious, wondrous thing called life each and every day.


I seek not stories in writing, but nuggets of truth. Does it not mean, then, that a book of quotes on how to live better is probably my best hope of contributing to the world?

Something to work on




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