Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life. It wasn't like I didn't know where… — Janet Fitch
Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life. It wasn't like I didn't know where all this remembering got you, all that hunger for beauty and astonishing cruelty and ever-present-loss.
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I had already seen more of the world, its beauty and misery and sheer surprise, than they could hope or fear to perceive.
This was an artist's stare, attentive to detail, taking in the truth without preconceptions. It was a stare that didn't turn away when I stared back, but was startled to find itself returned.
Don't attach yourself to anyone who shows you the least bit of attention because you're lonely. Loneliness is the human condition. No one is ever going to fill that space. The best you can do is know yourself... know what you want.
