Behind her strong, calm exterior and her well faked smile, all her unexpressed, negative emotions and feelings are fighting to get out. The chaos inside runs her life. Her sorrow, her self-loathing, her torment, her loneliness, her disappointment, her envy, her frustration, her helplessness, her anxiety, her grief, her guilt, they are all fighting to be released into the world. One day they will break free, stranger.
(Source: random-people)
Only on rare occasions is she certain. Only on rare occasions is she certain she is right, certain she is doing the right thing, certain she is making the right choice. How do you know you are doing what is right for you? How do you know what the right choice is? Do you only know whether you made the right choice in hindsight? Do you ever find out whether you made the right choice? Sometimes, maybe. Life isn’t very straightforward.
‘I suspect people who are certain all the time are people who can’t face reality,’ she once said to her uncle, a man who is always certain of everything. A man who has nothing but principles and twisted morals, that haven’t changed since he was a teenager. ‘Maybe having an open mind is more important than being so damn sure all the time,’ she would tell him. He would listen to her, smile, and say in a condescending tone of voice: ‘I know what is best for you. I did the same thing. It worked out for me. It is the right thing to do.’
‘How can you know what is best for me, when you know nothing about me? And how can you say it worked out for you? Are you happy? Because I don’t think you are. I want to be happy. I want to wonder and wander. I want to question and guess and learn and discover and doubt. When I am your age, I don’t want to be the same person I am now and I don’t want to be like you. I want to grow, not be judgmental, certain all the time and set in my ways.’ She would try to say it in a calm voice, without any emotion, but it never quite turned out that way. She wasn’t calm, she was angry, because she is sure of one thing. This man, this man who is so locked in, in his own small world, in his own strict thoughts, does not know what is best for her. This man does not have the right to tell her what to do with her life. If you are sure, then don’t listen to him, stranger.
(Source: random-people)
She has exposed her soul for him to explore. She trusts him enough to let down her walls. Walls she built up after years of heartache after heartache, betrayal after betrayal. Normally it takes her awhile to trust new people in her life, but she instantly loved him so deeply, trusting him was inevitable. She has never been this close to someone. Never before has she been this vulnerable in a relationship. Her old closed off self is nowhere to be found. Around him she is different from what she used to be. She is an open book to him. An open book he is too lazy or too unfeeling to read. Do you think he will ever take the trouble to understand you, stranger?
(Source: random-people)
She is an artist. A performance artist. Sometimes the people she talks to don’t know whether the conversations they have with her are real or a performance, an act. Her ability to feel shame or embarrassment is limited, other people’s embarrassment means nothing to her. In her world, in the world she has created, piece by piece, around herself, reality is non existent. All she wants to do is push people’s boundaries. She wants to see how far she can go, how far she can take people. How far away from the norm, from the boredom of everyday life. She wants to make people redefine themselves and the world. She wants to make people redefine good and bad, male and female, right and wrong, weird and normal, success and failure. She wants to make people be who they are. I want to live in your world, stranger.
(Source: random-people)
He looks at her. But he does not just look, he sees. He sees her as she is. All the good, all the bad, the hint of jealously she feels when he talks to another girl, her love for art, the way her nose wrinkled as she laughs. He sees her adoration for animals, her interest in science, the little smile she smiles at her own thoughts now and again, the loneliness she feels sometimes. He sees her deepest desires, her wildest dreams and her craziest thoughts. He sees who she was and who she is, he might even see who she will become. He sees her shortcomings, her past mistakes, the things she is incapable of, the things she does but probably shouldn’t do. He sees her shame, her embarrassments, her uniqueness. He sees the way her thoughts always, somehow, end up with him. He sees her soul as it is, full of life and a little scared. He sees it all as he looks at her. And he loves her for what he sees. I think she loves you too, stranger.
(Source: random-people)
