I owe it to myself to try and find her again, be her, and give her back to everyone else.
There’s nothing to be afraid of if you do everything with the purpose of getting closer to yourself.
My diction has become rusty, my words no longer sophisticated and grandiose. The feeble words I have left are simplistic and raw, no longer pretentious or guarded.
To be clear on what we want, we have to search inside. Only our internal compass can determine if we’re on our true path. That compass is only activated when we know who we really are.
I no longer think my purpose in this world is to write. I think it’s to love.
The color you wear most often.
We often convince ourselves that in order to figure out who we are, in order to find ourselves, we have to do something drastic. But that’s never the case.
She explained to me the pressure she puts on herself and how being number one entails so many sacrifices.
I have so much to be thankful for, and to be honest; I could not find any crack in my life that I am discontented with. I can’t. So why do I have this constant feeling that it is not enough? Why do I feel like there are greater things for me that I somehow cannot see? In the recesses of my heart there is a missing puzzle piece, and the thought that I might never discover it frightens me to my bones.
Essentially, genuinely intelligent people are not the most quick-witted, confident or certain.