Hate is only a form love that hasn't found a way to express itself logically.
I was trying to come round to the idea that there might be an invisible reality capable of interfering in our lives, but the only reason I did so was because of a love I didn't want to believe I felt but which was continuing to grow in a subtle, devastating way. I was content in my universe and didn't want to change it at all, even though I was being propelled in that direction.
I started running away when I was five years old. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized what I really wanted was somebody to come after me when I was running away.
If you're truly depicting human behavior in an honest way, it is a lot of miscommunication, non-communication, paranoia, passive aggressiveness. People don't finish sentences. They don't say what they mean. They lie to each other. They take credit for things that are actually other people's ideas.
When a woman like that whom I've seen so much, All of a sudden drops out of touch; Is always busy and never can, Spare you a moment, it means a man.
I don't believe you get to just act like things didn't happen because it's uncomfortable or sad.
Our most natural feelings are those we are loath to confess, and fatuity is among them.
Female rage is not often acknowledged - never mind written about - so one of the questions I'm asking is, 'Are you allowed to be this angry as you grow older as a woman?' But I'm also trying to trace where my anger came from. Who made me the person that is still so raw and angry? I think that it's empowering to ask that question.
I learned that the world didn't see the inside of you, that it didn't care a whit about the hopes and dreams, and sorrows, that lay masked by skin and bone. It was as simple, as absurd, and as cruel as that.
The reason why parents mistreat their children has less to do with character and temperament than with the fact that they were mistreated themselves and were not permitted to defend themselves.
No sooner do we think we have assembled a comfortable life than we find a piece of ourselves that has no place to fit in.
I don't want my poems to be sentimental, though I do acknowledge that sentiment is probably rather under-reported in a lot of people's feelings a lot of the time.
I know I should feel anger at my father for certain things. But since he died when I was 11, I never got to that point.
The dreamer in her Had fallen in love with me and she did not know it. That moment the dreamer in me Fell in love with her and I knew it
Now that I have found someone, I'm feeling more alone... than I ever have before.
What remains of your past if you didn't allow yourself to feel it when it happened? If you don't have your experiences in the moment, if you gloss them over with jokes or zoom past them, you end up with curiously dispassionate memories.
A man who is in control, and inside there is a frightened child - that interests me. Why? You can draw your own conclusions.
Kobayashi won't talk to me. He hates me.
If no one is pissed-off with you then you are dead but just haven't figured it out yet.
What is left unsaid gets in the way of the relationship. What is left unasked-for is a missed opportunity.
I had never confronted my parents with the true feelings I had for them, and I had certainly never expressed the depth of my feeling for my mother, being too selfish to try when I should have.
The tragedy of it is that nobody sees the look of desperation on my face. Thousands and thousands of us, and we're passing one another without a look of recognition.
I fell in love with many women at school who had no idea I existed. I'm a bit of a romantic.
If I didn't like someone, I wouldn't want him calling me up when I was dying. I wouldn't want them having regrets that they didn't talk to me.
Feelings come and go, unless you don't feel them. Then they stay, and hurt, and grow pear-shaped and weird.
