Little Whiskey

You’re flawed. Like, really flawed. And so is your current or future life-partner. Being flawed is part of the definition of being a human. And one of the worst fates would be to spend most of your life being criticized for your flaws and reprimanded for continuing to have them. This isn’t to say people shouldn’t work on self-improvement, but when it comes to a life partnership, the healthy attitude is, “Every person comes with a set of flaws, these are my partner’s, and they’re part of the package I knowingly chose to spend my life with.

Some people are more certain of everything than I am of anything.

There’s no way I was born to just pay bills and die.

sonder n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want.

A whiskey-drinking woman knows that none of us fit in these neat little boxes. She’d never pigeonhole other women—or men for that matter. She knows that each of us are infinitely full of gorgeous nooks and crannies waiting to be explored, and that the people who are willing to brave our fire in order to enjoy our warmth are the ones worth keeping in our lives.

Loneliness is dangerous. It’s addicting. Once you see how peaceful it is, you don’t wanna deal with people.

Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain.

Even in the most peaceful surroundings the angry heart finds a quarrel. Even in the most quarrelsome surroundings the grateful heart finds peace.