I am very introverted. Cut off. Disconnected and plain apathetic about life most days. But sometimes when I’m laying in bed at 11:41 on a summer night I hear the Earth and am full. Brimming. Overflowing. There are so many elegant words to read, mountains to climb, and cups of tea to try in hopes that one will taste good. There is exploration. There is invention. There is the ability to compose; to create. And that above all, I ask you to not take for granted.
You have the ability to author in this narrow breath of existence… it will be deformed, and frightful and terribly, terribly misshapen. But isn’t that life? There will be growth. It will be beautiful. The scars; the inaccuracy of it all will be beautiful, because it proves you are here. Your scars are stories.
There is so much more of my life’s script to write.
"Don’t ever compliment me by insulting other women. That’s not a compliment, it’s a competition none of us agreed to."
"Live in such a way that if someone spoke badly of you, no one would believe it."
"if you consider a woman
less pure after you’ve touched her
maybe you should take a look at your hands"
"I hope there are days when you fall in love with being alive."
The first time I held a human brain in Anatomy Lab I was completely speechless. I looked at my classmates expecting a similar reaction and they looked back at me confused like…”dude let’s start identifying the structures.” I had to take a step back and let it process…in my hands was someone’s entire life. From start to finish, every memory, every emotion, every bodily control…was right there in my hands.
I don’t care if people unfollow this is spectacular