You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken.
Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934 (via thewastedgeneration)
(Source: wanderingwomanchild, via thewastedgeneration)
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You loved a man who treated you like absinthe, half poison and half god.
Clementine von Radics, Letter from Anais Nin to Clementine von Radics. (via introspectivepoet)
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Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Anaïs Nin (via luna—belle)
(via luna---belle)
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sometimes u just gotta say “okey dokey” and just like.. rely on urself.. take things as impersonally as u can.. love and let go.. move on.. try and find all the good things, soak those in. and that’s all u can do! and sometimes, that’s enough
(Source: dirtgirl1999)
-you deserve to be in a relationship with a person who doesnt make you compete for their affection and never has you guessing where you stand with them
(Source: blackfairypresident, via gueraxloca)
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