literature blog

And maybe I made a mistake yesterday, but yesterday's me is still me. Today, I am who I am with all of my faults and mistakes. Tomorrow, I might be a little bit wiser, and that'll be me too. These faults and mistakes are what I am, making up the brightest stars in the constellation of my life. I have come to love myself for who I am, who I was, and who I hope to be.

A monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.

How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become?

It is a terrible thing, this kindness that human beings do not lose. Terrible, because when we are finally naked in the dark and cold, it is all we have. We who are so rich, so full of strength, we end up with that small change. We have nothing else to give.

Truth is a matter of the imagination. The soundest fact may prevail in the style of its telling...Facts are no more solid, coherent, round, and real than pearls are. But both are sensitive.

I always imagined this would happen without warning, like suddenly on an ocean cliff-side, but this is the kind of thing where waiting for the right moment would just mean waiting forever.

The person you need to protect, hug, comfort and embrace the most in the word, is you.