To me, you are a work of art.
I adore the struggle you carry in yourself. I adore your terrifying sincerity.
Anaïs Nin in a letter to Henry Miller (via t-e-l-e-p-a-t-h-y)
You lick your lips, you taste like years of being alone.
When something bothered me, I didn’t talk with anyone about it. I thought it over all by myself, came to a conclusion, and took action alone. Not that I really felt lonely. I thought that’s just the way things are. Human beings, in the final analysis, have to survive on their own.
Loneliness does not come from having no people around you, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to you.