ievastone-blog

[ievastone-blog]

Isn't it odd how much fatter a book gets when you've read it several times? As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells...and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower...both strange and familiar.

[ievastone-blog]

neizpratne par savu esamību

Tu esi brīva, neprecējusies un bez bērniem. Tavs pāšapziņas un uzticēšanās līmenis ir diezgan zems un Tev ir daudz vieglāk palīdzēt kādam nekā uzbāzties ar savām problēmām. Tu esi pozitīva, smaidīga, lai gan iekšēji Tu esi pilnīgi sabrukusi.

Bet tad uzrodas kāds, kurš diezgan ātri saprot cik “fucked up” tu esi. Tu atver savu sirdi, pastāsti lietas, kuras esi glabājusi sevī jau kādus pāris gadus un tu sāc pieķerties viņam.

Be tad es vairs nesaprotu... kādā jaukā dienā viņš kļūst atturīgs un tu saproti, ka īslaicīgā aizraušanās tā vnk ir izgaisusi... pat nezinot kāpēc. Iekšā ir tāds akmens, kas sirdi smagu dara. Tad vienu vakaru Tu izraudies, un nākamā rītā piecelies ar aizpampušām acīm, ka pat cilvēkos nevar rādīties. Bet tā pat nekas skaidrāks nepaliek.

Skumji ir tas, ka es neesmu no tiem cilvēkiem, kas prasīs - “Kāpēc? Ko sliktu es izdarīju?” Es vnk neprotu to darīt, jo vienmēr esmu bijusi tas rezerves variants, kam “nav atļauts” uzdot jautajumus.

Man visvairāk sāp tas, ka pēc viņa skaistajiem vārdiem, cik brīnišķīga es esmu un tādu kā mani, nevajadzētu tā vnk palaist vaļā, un pēc visas šīs ignorēšanas un neizpratnes, mana pašapziņa ir pilnīgi sagrauta, man pilnībā īsti nav vairs pārliecības par sevi. Man jau kādu laiku ir pilnīgi viss apnicis, es vairs nesaprotu, kas man šajā dzīvē ir darāms.

Es ceru, ka tomēr pie manis atnāks kāda iedvesma, lai dzīvē kaut ko mainītu. 

[ievastone-blog]

Somewhere out there, there's a yellow umbrella for everyone... /HIMYM/

[ievastone-blog]

People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.

[ievastone-blog]

Inside of all of us there is the need and the desire to be heard, to have our innermost thoughts, feelings and desires expressed for others to hear, to see and to understand. We all want to matter to someone, to leave a mark. Writers just take those thoughts, feelings and desires and express them in such a way that the reader not only reads them but feels them as well.

[ievastone-blog]

“and maybe we’re all just looking for someone who cares enough to try. someone who has never had the best memory, but remembers the little things about you. someone who has always been a little shy, but opens up to you. someone who has never been good at keeping a conversation going, but can’t shut up around you. someone who hates driving on the highway, but spends hours on it to get to you. we’re not hoping to change them, no. we’re just hoping to matter enough to them.”

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