His & Hers

Sometimes I think I am the unreliable narrator of my own life. Sometimes I think we all are.

Patience is the answer to so many of life's questions.

Tell a person they're wrong, and they'll cover their ears. Tell a person they're right, and they'll listen to you all day long.

I think when we finally get what we think we want, it loses its value. It's the secret nobody ever shares, because if they did, we would all stop trying.

Youth fools us into thinking there are infinite paths to choose from in life; maturity tricks us into thinking there is only one.

Sometimes we hold on too tight to the wrong people, until it hurts so much we have to let go.

People rarely see themselves the way others do; we all carry broken mirrors.

I think you reach an age—and it is different for everyone—where you finally realize that all the things you thought mattered, don’t.

Memories are shapeshifters. Some bend, some twist, and some shrivel and die over time. But our worst ones never leave us.

There are two kinds of women: those who spend a lifetime trying not to turn into their mothers, and those who literally seem to want nothing more. I often find both varieties get the complete opposite of what they hoped for – one set become carbon copies of the women they didn’t want to be, while the others never live up to their own expectations of who they think they should have become

Choosing to forget can be a lot less painful than choosing to remember.

Some people build invisible walls around themselves in the name of self-preservation. Hers were always tall, solid, and impenetrable.

Sometimes I get lost in my own thoughts and fears. Trapped within a world of worry which, deep down, I know only exists inside my head. Anxiety often screams louder than logic, and when you spend too long imagining the worst you can make it come true.

I’ve always loved listening to the way different people speak, it can tell you so much about them. I don’t just mean accents, I mean everything: the tone, the volume, the speed, as well as the language. The words they choose to use, and how and when and why they say them. The silences between the sentences, which can be just as loud. A person’s voice is like a wave – some just wash right over you, while others have the power to knock you down and drag you into an ocean of self-doubt. The sound of her speaking makes me feel like I’m drowning.

Silence is my favourite symphony; I can’t think clearly when life gets too loud.

Parents spend their youth trying to understand their children; children spend their adulthood trying to understand their parents.

We all have cracks, the little dents and blemishes that life makes in our hearts and minds, cemented by fear and anxiety, sometimes plastered over with fragile hope. I choose to hide the vulnerable sides of myself as well as I’m able at all times. I choose to hide a lot of things. The only people with no regrets are liars.

Sometimes even I don’t like to see the me that I become when nobody else is looking.

Sometimes I find the only way to ease the worst forms of pain is to damage myself in a different way. Distract my attention from the things that can and will break me. A little hurt to help me heal.

This job isn’t about making friends, it’s about not making enemies.

There are some things we only hold on to because of who gave them to us: names, beliefs, scarves.

There are some people we never really let go of in life. Or death. Even when we pretend to. They are always still there, lurking in our loneliest thoughts, haunting our memories with dreams that can no longer come true.

Sometimes it feels as though I live just below the surface, and everyone else lives above. When I try to be, and sound, and act like they do for too long, it feels like I can’t breathe. As though even my lungs were made differently, and I’m not able, or good enough to inhale the same air as the people I meet.

We rarely deserve the lives we lead. We pay for them however we can, be it with money, guilt, or regret.

You can’t help someone find their way if they won’t admit they’re lost.

I made it a habit not to forget anything or anyone, especially people who have wronged me. What I lack in forgiveness I make up for in patience. And I pay attention to the little things, because they are often the biggest clues to who a person really is. People rarely see themselves the way others do; we all carry broken mirrors.

People might recognise my face, they may even know my name, but they’ll never know the real me. Nobody does. I’ve always been selfish with the true thoughts and feelings inside my head; I don’t share them with anyone. Because I can’t. There is a version of me I can only ever be with myself. I sometimes think the secret to success is the ability to adapt. Life rarely stays the same, and I’ve frequently had to reinvent myself in order to keep up.

I pay attention to the little things, because they are often the biggest clues to who a person really is.

Sometimes we believe what we want to about the people we like the most.

A smile doesn't mean someone is happy, just like tears don't always mean someone is sad. Our faces lie just as often as our words do.