Quotes about relatable

Maybe loneliness is an acquired taste, or maybe it's like plunging your hand in ice water--it hurts like hell in the beginning, and then you go numb.

I am always disappointed with someone who loves me - how perfect can he be if he can't see through me?

If you haven't caused a scene in a psych unit, it's just because you haven't been inside long enough.

I hate Hera.

I was pretty sure if I tried to sing, all I would cause was an avalanche.

Life. In all it's mundane majesty.

Okay. I've got one. Do you think Pluto should still be considered an actual planet in its own right?""Much better. And yes, I do. I had to memorize the planets when I was in third grade, and it was one of them, and I don't like having to relearn things.

As much as we strive towards the light, we still want to be embraced by the shadow.

My hope is that, factual or fabricated, every line in Tsarina leads to a single truth: that when you forget that those you disagree with are people, not just your faceless opposition, you don't end up proving who is right and who is wrong. You end up with a body count.

I am going to shrink and shrink until I am a dry fall leaf, complete with a translucent spine and brittle veins, blowing away in a stiff wind, up, up, up into a crisp blue sky.

I was convinced that she was about to tell me my card was declined, and assumed Derek wanting to talk later meant he'd soon be telling me our life was declined. Everything, everyone had reached their limits with me.

I have never had any difficulty falling asleep. No matter what problems I have. However terrible things are, I can sleep. It's like killing yourself and taking the easy way out. It's waking up that I dread. Every morning, I go through the five stages of death. I wake up in denial that I have to go to work. Then I get angry. Then I bargain with God, or myself, and try to call in sick. Then I feel guilty and go into remission, until finally I accept that the day will suck and I get up.

But at home, that same day he'd jumped into the fountain, he'd gotten so anxious, pacing around the living room listening to his parents try to calm him, that he suddenly just lost it completely and slapped his face. He immediately started crying, confused and guilty, looking up at his parents like he had no idea how it happened. And, really, that's the way it always was with the hitting. It would happen so fast, his body shaking to release the tension that built up from all the thoughts swirlin

When the occasional stranger approaches me at a party to say, "Hey, you're Felicia Day. Let's talk about that comic book you were tweeting about last week!" it's the greatest thing in the world. Because it saves me from having to stand in the corner awkwardly, drinking all the Sprite, and then leaving after ten minutes without saying good-bye to my host.

To translate a poem from thinking into English takes all night.

Sometimes the universe works in a really weird way. You hate the people who love you, and you love the people who just aren't really that into you. And then there are those who love you as you love them, but fate just decides that you're not meant to be.

I'm a lunatic wandering around for scraps, I'm like every single miserable moron I've scorned, and pretended I didn't recognize. I'm all of them, every last ugly thing in a bad last-minute costume. I'm not different, not at all, not different from any other speck of a thing.

What would you do if you only had one day left in this world? Spend it with the people you love? Travel to the far corners of the earth to see as many wonders as possible? Eat nothing but chocolate? Would you apologize for all your mistakes? Would you stand up to those you'd never had the courage to face? Would you tell your secret crush that you loved him or her? Why is it that we wait till the last minute to do the things we should be doing all along?

But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defensless that I couldn't do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get.

But I can now understand why people read, why they like to get lost in somebody else's life. Sometimes I'll read a sentence and it will make me sit up, jolt me, because it is something that I have recently felt but never said out loud. I want to reach into the page and tell the characters that I understand them, that they're not alone, that I'm not alone, that it's ok to feel like this. And then the lunch bell rings, the book closes, and I'm plunged back into reality.

Fiction described reality better than non-fiction.

But there were worse things than disappointment, and I'd lived through several of them already.

Human experience is not nest and orderly, ready to be coded into predetermined categories. Real life is messy

I might not be ready to pour out my feelings to the world, but I’d had enough of trying to ignore them.

I miss you in waves and tonight I’m drowning. You left me fending for my life and it feels like you’re the only one who can bring me back to the shore alive.

It was just my reality, to never have a boy be interested in me romantically for more than one random moment. Like a TV show you don't like but you end up watching anyway, because there's nothing else on.

I'm tired of hurting from the people who leave me. I'm tired of getting comfortable with others. I tell you everything and you leave. It's like you're take what is good in me and all that is left in me is an empty shitty feeling.

Everyone can be trusted. You just can't give them more than they can be trusted with.

The old adage of forgive and forget became a trudge through quicksand on a beach as high tide crashed onto the shore.

If you're not busy being born, you're busy dying.

The future will be better tomorrow.

She generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes;

It was a Wednesday, I think. Yes, a Wednesday, that miserable day sandwiched between the dreadful Monday and Tuesday and the 'all right' Thursday and Friday, which ultimately gave way to what I hoped woud be a glorious weekend.

I squinted at her. “You’re an adult.” “You’re an adult too.” “But you’re an older adult. You’ve had more practice.” Mom leaned back and laughed.

But then again, I shouldn't judge. That is, after all, my pet peeve.

Feeling like she really was just seven or eight, Claire sat down on the floor, books all around her, and she opened the last one she’d picked up. Even though it was dark, and even though her eyes couldn’t see the words, she knew them.Knew the little prince’s story as well as her own.She closed her eyes. She leaned her head forward against the book. And she sobbed.

Who am I when I don't know myself?

I'm stuck in between a nightmare and lost dreams

I didn’t want to fall in love. Looking at you gave me chills and kissing you made my knees weak. You made flowers grow and fill the space in my lungs which made it impossible for me to breathe. I’m trying to drench the memories and the blood that once pumped through my veins has been replaced with alcohol. My teeth has shattered from all the whiskey bottles and every morning I awake to throw up the poison I swallowed the night before as a hopeless attempt to forget the taste of your lips. I keep

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words will always kill me.

Sometimes you go do the opposite things anyway because in actuality... The whole time you've been wanting to hear the right thing from a person that will stop you.