Sara

A true artist is not one who is inspired, but one who inspires others.

What is it that really makes us, us? It’s our collective intelligence. It’s our ability to write things down, our language and our consciousness.

From now on, forget happiness. Now it’s just about saving the remains, the wreckage, the appearance.

If I stayed here, something inside me would be lost forever–something I couldn’t afford to lose. It was like a vague dream, a burning, unfulfilled desire. The kind of dream people have only when they’re seventeen.

The most important thing we learn at school is the fact that the most important things can’t be learned at school.

It’s just a feeling I have. What you see with your eyes is not necessarily real. My enemy is, among other things, the me inside me.

I find it hard to talk about myself. I am always tripped up by the eternal ‘who am I?’ paradox

All things pass. None of us can manage to hold on to anything. In that way, we live our lives.

If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets.

What I want is for the two of us to meet somewhere by chance one day, like, passing on the street, or getting on the same bus.

I always feel like I’m struggling to become someone else. Like I’m trying to find a new place, grab hold of a new life, a new personality. I guess it’s part of growing up, yet it’s also an attempt to reinvent myself. By becoming a different me, I could free myself of everything. I seriously believed I could escape myself–as long as I made the effort. But I always hit a dead end. No matter where I go, I still end up me. What’s missing never changes. The scenery may change, but I’m still the same old incomplete person. The same missing elements torture me with a hunger that I can never satisfy. I guess that lack itself is as close as I’ll ever come to defining myself.

I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it – to be fed so much love I couldn’t take any more. Just once.

The world’s crawling with stupid, innocent girls, and I’m just one of them, self-consciously chasing after dreams that’ll never come true.

I have a million things to talk to you about. A million things we have to talk about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.

I, too, remember that feeling. You are caught between all that was and all that must be. You feel lost.