I hope when you peel citrus fruit
that it all comes out in one piece.
I hope that you have nothing to do today
so that you can stay in the shower
because sometimes that’s the warmest
and safest place to be.
I hope you let the sidewalk kiss
the bottoms of your bare
blistered feet after you’ve walked
far too long in uncomfortable shoes.
I hope the lights are all green on your drive home.
I hope the cashier looks at you like you’re beautiful.
I hope you have an appetite tonight and I hope
you have good things to eat.
I hope the walk to your car smells like trees.
I hope you haven’t forgotten how lovely you are.
We all have different definitions of a good day.
I hope you get some stuff done
even when you couldn’t leave your bed last week.
I hope you went outside even though
you didn’t want to see anyone.
I hope you at least have a day
where nothing bad happens.
I hope you have a day when you give yourself a break
because you need to remember that you’re human.
I hope you do something that makes you feel good about yourself.
I hope you do something for you and only you.
I hope you remember it’s not selfish.
I hope you remember it’s okay to eat.
Most of all, I hope you don’t die
because you are so many people’s reasons
to stay alive.
— 4:20 p.m. (You deserve the best, I hope you get it)
The city of Boston had sharp edges and jarring voices, every building, every scowling face, in harsh focus. In Boston, you knew you were alive, if only because you were so irritated.
— The Surgeon by Tess Gerritsen
I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise (via introspectivepoet)
Then the feeling moves on. It does not collapse; it is not whisked away. It simply moves on, like a train that stops at a small country station, stands for a while, and then continues out of sight.
There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.
— John Green | The Fault in Our Stars (via tfios)