psithurism

I want fresh flowers, a hand to hold, camping with friends, books I can’t stop reading, compliments that don’t call me beautiful, traveling to new and faraway places, big warm hugs, smiles from strangers, coffee, long walks, talks about nothing at all, tears of happiness, to go someplace where no one knows my name, to serve others, learn a new language, to take days off to do nothing, sleep in, dream while I walk. I want to feel stronger, to forgive and forget, to love and be loved. I want to make people feel loved, to believe in themselves. I want to be grateful for the pain and for the growth that came behind it. I want to improve myself, grow, and learn and teach something to someone as well. I want to be there and I want to be here. I want to live full and happy and well.

The more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer, because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you, in proportion to your fear of being hurt. The one who does most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers most.

I get way too sensitive when I get attached to someone. I can detect the slightest changed in the tone of their voice, and suddenly I’m spending all day trying to figure out what I did wrong.