Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow , for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
Whatever you’re feeling right now, there’s a mathematical certainty that someone else is feeling that exact thing. This is not to say you aren’t special; this is to say thank god you aren’t special. I too have kissed no one goodnight. I have launched myself from tall places and hoped no one would catch me. I have ended relationships because suddenly, I was also exposed. But isolation is not safety; it is death. If no one knows you’re alive, you aren’t. If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around to hear it, it does make a sound, but then that sound is gone. I’m not saying you’ll find the meaning of life in other people. I’m saying other people are the life to which you provide the meaning.
—an excerpt from Neil Hilborn’s This Is Not The End Of The World (via aflashlight-andthetraintimes)
God has moved into the house next door
that’s why the light is always shining
through the drapes and the door
is slightly cracked and
nothing happens to the windows
when the kids are throwing bricks
and no one yells when they are sneering
no one hollers, no one shouts
there’s just a sweet and peaceful melody
like come in, coming out
So before you point the blame, make a list of everything on this Earth that you’ve ever wanted to change and at the top, print your own beautiful name and start from there.
—Andrea Gibson (Evolution)