There Is Nothing Poetic In Sadness. No Salvation In Pain.
There is nothing poetic in sadness. No salvation in pain.
You won't ease the suffering by running away.
It was always inside you.
The fear.
The grief.
The rage.
The sorrow.
Let it slip.
Nothing is everlasting but everything is eternal.
Maybe you fear death but
you're still about to be born.
We forgot who we actually are.
Tangled up in our daily lifes we believe everything that happens is important. That every bad thing that happened is proof that the universe is against us. But it's not.
We are it's children.
We are the same.
More Posts from Undervajjed and Others
And when everyone's asleep, I lie awake thinking what went wrong. I do not weep, yet my mind plays a melancholic song. I drift away in hopes of dreams, yet they were here to stay with their agonizing screams.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, from a letter to Percy Bysshe Shelley, featured in The Letters of Mary Shelley
7 April, 1939 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov
Martha Gellhorn, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Marth Gellhorn
“All relationships have one law: never make the one you love feel alone, especially when you’re there.”
— Unknown
Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle, Vladimir Nabokov
“you will never be too much for someone who can’t get enough of you”
— Unknown
Simone de Beauvoir, from a diary entry featured in Diary of a Philosophy Student
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