You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened... or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the Bleep on.
After life has slapped you profusely you must get used again to a more delicate touch.
The most painful feelings and the most piercing emotions, are the most absurd: the anxiety of possible things, because they're impossible, nostalgia of what never was, the desire of what could've been, feeling sorry to not be someone else, dissatisfaction for the existence of the world.
Time that distinguishes the rule will make fear to whom painfully remembers.
History as a slaughterhouse countertop.
What are you looking then? I don't know. Maybe nothing, maybe everyone; Maybe now, other than searching, I want to live what happens to me, what life gives me. I love playing. Being free. I'm happy with myself also when I'm shopping and I push the trolley. If I want, in the evening, I go out, otherwise I stay at home reading or watching a movie... I'd defend this condition with all my strength. Always. But sometimes also I need a hug, to let myself go and to lose myself in a man's arms. An embrace that makes me feel protected even if I can protect myself... I'm capable of doing what I need, but sometimes I'd like to pretend to not be capable and have somebody else do it for me. It's a sensation. But I don't want to be with a man for this reason. I can't make any compromises, and I can't renounce to everything I have, to my freedom for that hug that often, as years go by, won't be there anymore...
Life is a rocky road, rocks on which you trip, you fall, you hurt yourself.
Rocks against which you must protect yourself with iron shoes. But no even this is enough because while you protect your feet there's always someone who pick up a rock to hit you on the head with.
Living is experimenting - don't remain still meditating the sense of life.
The artifice of the happy endings in stories always annoyed my Nini; she is convinced that in life there are no endings, but boundaries, wandering here and there, tripping over, getting lost.
Nothing is permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles.