I think she’s special. She doesn’t need anyone. Like that’s the thing. Even if we were together, she wouldn’t really belong to me. She doesn’t belong to anything. She’s off in her own world…
You wanna know what living life to the fullest actually is? It’s waking up on a Monday morning with no complaints. It’s knowing you always deserve to laugh. It’s doing what feels right no matter what. It’s doing what you want to, no matter how stupid you look. It’s about being yourself, ‘cause no one can tell you you’re doing it wrong.
Introverts are collectors of thoughts, and solitude is where the collection is curated and rearranged to make sense of the present and future.
If there is something glorious about the human race altogether, it is the ability to connect
. We are most fearfully simply existing until we slowly and steadily develop the need to preserve our innocence and at the same time break some boundaries; Until we responsibly crawl outside of ourselves without losing ourselves and commit to some form of beautiful connection. Intimacy.
Talk about intimacy. Talk about wordlessly wonderful communication and the unsurpassable sense of twoness, togetherness. It doesn’t have to revolve around romance; It might be utterly friend-rooted or not rooted at all. No definition might fit it but I still name it intimacy. And it is so strange and spectacularly profound.