Tell The People You Love That You Love Them

" FIND ECSTASY WITHIN YOURSELF. IT IS NOT OUT THERE. IT IS IN YOUR INNERMOST FLOWERING. THE ONE YOU ARE LOOKING FOR IS YOU. "

I LOVE BEING HORRIBLY STRAIGHTFORWARD. I LOVE SENDING RECKLESS TEXT MESSAGES (BECAUSE HOW RECKLESS CAN A FORM OF DIGITIZED COMMUNICATION BE?) AND TELLING PEOPLE I LOVE THEM AND TELLING PEOPLE THEY ARE ABSOLUTELY MAGICAL HUMANS AND I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY REALLY EXIST. I LOVE SAYING, “KISS ME HARDER,” AND “YOU’RE A GOOD PERSON,” AND, “YOU BRIGHTEN MY DAY.” I LIVE MY LIFE AS STRAIGHT-FORWARD AS POSSIBLE.

 

BECAUSE ONE DAY, I MIGHT GET HIT BY A BUS.

 

MAYBE IT’S WEIRD. MAYBE IT’S SCARY. MAYBE IT SEEMS DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO JUST BE—TO JUST LET PEOPLE KNOW YOU WANT THEM, NEED THEM, FEEL LIKE, IN THIS VERY MOMENT, YOU WILL DIE IF YOU DO NOT SEE THEM, HOLD THEM, TOUCH THEM IN SOME WAY WHETHER ITS YOUR FEET ON THEIR THIGHS ON THE COUCH OR YOUR TONGUE IN THEIR MOUTH OR YOUR HEART IN THEIR HANDS.

 

BUT THERE IS NOTHING MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN BEING DESPERATE.

 

AND THERE IS NOTHING MORE RISKY THAN PRETENDING NOT TO CARE.

 

WE ARE YOUNG AND WE ARE HUMAN AND WE ARE BEAUTIFUL AND WE ARE NOT AS IN CONTROL AS WE THINK WE ARE. WE NEVER KNOW WHO NEEDS US BACK. WE NEVER KNOW THE MAGIC THAT CAN ARISE BETWEEN OURSELVES AND OTHER HUMANS.

 

WE NEVER KNOW WHEN THE BUS IS COMING."

by Rachel C. Lewis, Tell The People You Love That You Love Them

I’ve never really been good at small talk.

" I LOVE YOU BECAUSE THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE CONSPIRED TO HELP ME FIND YOU. "

by Paulo Coelho

" NOTHING COMPARES TO YOUR HANDS, NOTHING LIKE THE GREEN-GOLD OF YOUR EYES. MY BODY IS FILLED WITH YOU FOR DAYS AND DAYS. YOU ARE THE MIRROR OF THE NIGHT. THE VIOLENT FLASH OF LIGHTNING. THE DAMPNESS OF THE EARTH. THE HOLLOW OF YOUR ARMPITS IS MY SHELTER, MY FINGERTIPS TOUCH YOUR BLOOD. ALL MY JOY IS TO FEEL LIFE SPRING FROM YOUR FLOWER-FOUNTAIN THAT MINE KEEPS TO FILL ALL THE PATHS OF MY NERVES WHICH ARE YOURS. "

by Frida Kahlo, The Diary Of Frida Kahlo

" I AM THAT CLUMSY HUMAN, ALWAYS LOVING, LOVING, LOVING. AND LOVING. AND NEVER LEAVING. YOU ARE A STONE. WE WEEP TOGETHER AND MAKE A BED FOR RAIN. "

by Frida Kahlo, The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait

" SOMETIMES YOU MEET SOMEONE, AND IT’S SO CLEAR THAT THE TWO OF YOU, ON SOME LEVEL BELONG TOGETHER. AS LOVERS, OR AS FRIENDS, OR AS FAMILY, OR AS SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT. YOU JUST WORK, WHETHER YOU UNDERSTAND ONE ANOTHER OR YOU’RE IN LOVE OR YOU’RE PARTNERS IN CRIME. YOU MEET THESE PEOPLE THROUGHOUT YOUR LIFE, OUT OF NOWHERE, UNDER THE STRANGEST CIRCUMSTANCES, AND THEY HELP YOU FEEL ALIVE. I DON’T KNOW IF THAT MAKES ME BELIEVE IN COINCIDENCE, OR FATE, OR SHEER BLIND LUCK, BUT IT DEFINITELY MAKES ME BELIEVE IN SOMETHING. "

PEOPLE ALWAYS SAY THAT IT HURTS AT NIGHT

AND APPARENTLY SCREAMING INTO YOUR PILLOW AT 3AM

IS THE ROMANTIC EQUIVALENT OF BEING HEARTBROKEN.

 

BUT SOMETIMES

IT’S 9AM ON A TUESDAY MORNING

AND YOU’RE STANDING AT THE KITCHEN BENCH WAITING FOR THE TOAST TO POP UP

 

AND THE SMELL OF DUSTY SUNLIGHT AND EARL GRAY TEA MAKES YOU MISS HIM SO MUCH

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOUR HANDS.

 On Missing Them, Rosie Scanlan

 

" I WANT IN FACT MORE OF YOU. IN MY MIND I AM DRESSING YOU WITH LIGHT; I AM WRAPPING YOU UP IN BLANKETS OF COMPLETE ACCEPTANCE AND THEN I GIVE MYSELF TO YOU. I LONG FOR YOU; I WHO USUALLY LONG WITHOUT LONGING, AS THOUGH I AM UNCONSCIOUS AND ABSORBED IN NEUTRALITY AND APATHY, REALLY, UTTERLY LONG FOR EVERY BIT OF YOU. "

by Franz Kafka

" WE SPOKE ALL NIGHT IN TONGUES,

IN FINGERTIPS, IN TEETH.

" HE HURT ME MORE THAN ANYONE EVER HAS, BUT HE LOVED ME BETTER THAN ANYONE EVER DID, TOO. "

by Nyrae Dawn, Measuring Up

" CAN YOU REMEMBER WHO YOU WERE, BEFORE THE WORLD TOLD YOU WHO YOU SHOULD BE? "

by Danielle LaPorte

YOU ARE AT ONCE BOTH THE QUIET AND THE CONFUSION OF MY HEART. "

by Franz Kafka, from Letters To Felice

" SO I WROTE TO HER. LETTERS I NEVER SENT. LETTERS I THREW IN THE GUTTER OR FLASHED AWAY. - LIKE BOTTLES INTO THE SEA? - INTO AN OCEAN OF SHIT, MAYBE. NO, IT’S FAR MORE ROMANTIC. PICTURE IT: A HERMIT, A CAVE-DWELLER, WHO LIVES IN THE SEWERS, DISCOVERS THE LETTERS. HE COLLECTS THEM, READS THEM, THEN STARTS DREAMING. EVEN ENVIES THAT LOVE, PERHAPS. I THINK I WROTE A THOUSAND LETTERS, THAT TIME. I STILL REMEMBER THAT ROOM IN THAT LITTLE COTTAGE. ALL OF THIS IS OFF THE RECORD OF COURSE. I COULD’VE WRITTEN HER A SONG INSTEAD. NE ME QUITTE PAS, SOMETHING LIKE THAT. BELGIANS SPEAK SLOWLY BUT THEY KEEP IT SIMPLE. “WHERE ARE YOU?”, “WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?”, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” THOSE WERE QUESTIONS I’D ASK MYSELF WHEN I WOKE UP. THINKING OF HER. AND I’D GO TO BED…WITH THE SAME QUESTIONS. "

 

 " THERE ARE SOME PEOPLE, IF YOU’RE LUCKY, THAT WILL SORT OF FLOAT INTO YOUR LIFE, SURROUNDED BY SOME KIND OF OTHERWORLDLY GLOW AND YOU’LL FIND YOURSELF ASKING WHAT YOU’VE EVER, EVER DONE TO DESERVE TO EVEN, LIKE, LIVE ON THE SAME PLANET WITH SOMEONE WHO RADIATES SUCH LOVELINESS

 

" PEOPLE WHO BELIEVE THEY’LL BE HAPPY IF THEY GO AND LIVE SOMEWHERE ELSE, LEARN IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY. WHEREVER YOU GO, YOU TAKE YOURSELF WITH YOU. "

" HOW ARE YOU?

NO,

DON’T TELL ME THAT YOU’RE DOING GOOD

OR THAT YOU ARE FINE,

YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT YOU ARE SO FAR FROM BOTH OF THOSE THINGS,

TELL ME,

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU THOUGHT ABOUT DEATH?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED AND WHAT FINALLY MADE THE TEARS FALL AFTER ALL THAT TIME?

WHAT IS YOUR STORY OF LOSS?

WHAT WORDS BREAK YOU?

WHAT WORDS PUT YOU BACK TOGETHER?

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD THE DEPTH OF THE WORD “GOODBYE?”

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME THE ONLY THING YOU COULD DO WAS LAY ON THE FLOOR AND CRY BECAUSE NOTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD MADE SENSE BUT BROKENNESS?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REALLY AND TRULY LAUGHED?

CAN YOU REMEMBER THAT FAR BACK?

WHAT WAS ON YOUR MIND WHEN YOU GOT THOSE SCARS ON YOUR LEG?

WHAT LIES HAVE YOU BELIEVED LATELY?

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD WHAT “I LOVE YOU” MEANT?

WHO MADE YOU SO BROKEN?

HAVE YOU EVEN TRIED TO PUT YOURSELF BACK TOGETHER?

TELL ME,

TELL ME,

DO YOU LOVE YOURSELF?

HOW MUCH OF YOUR SKIN CAN YOU FIND CONSTELLATIONS IN?

HAVE YOU EVER TRIED TO UNDERSTAND YOUR EYES?

HAVE YOU PRESSED YOUR FINGERTIPS TO YOUR OWN LIPS HOPING NOTHING ELSE MATTERED IN THE WORLD IF YOUR LIPS WERE YOUR OWN?

HAVE YOU EVER MADE YOURSELF BELIEVE THE LIE THAT YOU AREN’T WORTH IT?

WHY?

HOW IS THE WEATHER IN YOUR HEART?

IS IT A HURRICANE OR A TSUNAMI?

IS THERE FOG SURROUNDING YOUR SOUL?

HAVE YOU EVER LOVED ANOTHER MORE THAN YOU LOVED TO BREATHE?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REALLY AND TRULY BELIEVED THAT YOUR LIFE WAS WORTH LIVING? "

by I’ve never really been good at small talk

" HOW ARE YOU?

NO,

DON’T TELL ME THAT YOU’RE DOING GOOD

OR THAT YOU ARE FINE,

YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT YOU ARE SO FAR FROM BOTH OF THOSE THINGS,

TELL ME,

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU THOUGHT ABOUT DEATH?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED AND WHAT FINALLY MADE THE TEARS FALL AFTER ALL THAT TIME?

WHAT IS YOUR STORY OF LOSS?

WHAT WORDS BREAK YOU?

WHAT WORDS PUT YOU BACK TOGETHER?

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD THE DEPTH OF THE WORD “GOODBYE?”

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME THE ONLY THING YOU COULD DO WAS LAY ON THE FLOOR AND CRY BECAUSE NOTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD MADE SENSE BUT BROKENNESS?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REALLY AND TRULY LAUGHED?

CAN YOU REMEMBER THAT FAR BACK?

WHAT WAS ON YOUR MIND WHEN YOU GOT THOSE SCARS ON YOUR LEG?

WHAT LIES HAVE YOU BELIEVED LATELY?

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD WHAT “I LOVE YOU” MEANT?

WHO MADE YOU SO BROKEN?

HAVE YOU EVEN TRIED TO PUT YOURSELF BACK TOGETHER?

TELL ME,

TELL ME,

DO YOU LOVE YOURSELF?

HOW MUCH OF YOUR SKIN CAN YOU FIND CONSTELLATIONS IN?

HAVE YOU EVER TRIED TO UNDERSTAND YOUR EYES?

HAVE YOU PRESSED YOUR FINGERTIPS TO YOUR OWN LIPS HOPING NOTHING ELSE MATTERED IN THE WORLD IF YOUR LIPS WERE YOUR OWN?

HAVE YOU EVER MADE YOURSELF BELIEVE THE LIE THAT YOU AREN’T WORTH IT?

WHY?

HOW IS THE WEATHER IN YOUR HEART?

IS IT A HURRICANE OR A TSUNAMI?

IS THERE FOG SURROUNDING YOUR SOUL?

HAVE YOU EVER LOVED ANOTHER MORE THAN YOU LOVED TO BREATHE?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REALLY AND TRULY BELIEVED THAT YOUR LIFE WAS WORTH LIVING? "

by I’ve never really been good at small talk

" YOU WILL BURN AND YOU WILL BURN OUT; YOU WILL BE HEALED AND COME BACK AGAIN. "

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

 

 

 

 

Facebook posts. Write up's. propensity to box you in with labels.

"sometimes love is - sitting and typing on our respective laptops, listening to the gentle snores of our two dogs tugged in their blankets, what joy!"

"In the accelerated intimacy that can only be created by situations where the lines blur between life and death, we felt instantly sentimental about these young soldiers. But, when the moment came to say goodbye and good-luck to them, my male colleagues cried openly, as I buried my face in my shirtsleeves and fought back the tears, resolved that none should ever throw my gender in my face once the war was over."

 

"Though my mother died when I was very young, there is one thing I learnt from her early on. In life, you can only be true to yourself. The rest be damned. As I evolved into a journalist reporting on different issues, I found that some viewers and readers had a propensity to box you in with labels. My reporting on different conflict zones across the world has involved years spent reporting from Jammu and Kashmir. It is a state where, to borrow from Akira Kurosawa, there are at least seven shades of truth, if not more. The sacrifices of the military, of which I am a huge admirer, have co-existed with unforgivable human rights violations of which I am an outspoken critic."

" I HAVE BEEN HOMESICK FOR YOU SINCE WE MET. "

" HIS BODY SMELLED LIKE A PRECIOUS-WOOD FOREST; HIS HAIR, LIKE SANDALWOOD, HIS SKIN, LIKE CEDAR. IT WAS AS IF HE HAD ALWAYS LIVED AMONG TREES AND PLANTS. "

by Anaïs Nin, Little Bird

" I ACHED ALL OVER FOR HER; I LEANED MY HEAD IN HER BEAUTIFUL HAIR. HER LITTLE SHOULDERS DROVE ME MAD; I HUGGED HER AND HUGGED HER. AND SHE LOVED IT. ‘I LOVE LOVE,’ SHE SAID, CLOSING HER EYES. I PROMISED HER BEAUTIFUL LOVE. I GLOATED OVER HER. OUR STORIES WERE TOLD; WE SUBSIDED INTO SILENCE AND SWEET ANTICIPATORY THOUGHTS. IT WAS AS SIMPLE AS THAT. YOU COULD HAVE ALL YOUR PEACHES AND BETTYS AND MARYLOUS AND RITAS AND CAMILLES AND INEZES IN THIS WORLD; THIS WAS MY GIRL AND MY KIND OF GIRLSOUL, AND I TOLD HER THAT. "

by Jack Kerouac, On The Road

 'TAKE ME

NAKED,’

THE FLOWER SAID

TO THE SUN,

‘BEFORE

NIGHT

CLOSES

MY THIGHS.’ "

by Malcom de Chazal, Sens-Plastique

A letter to you, yes you.

And isn't this true in general of the pain that comes from personal relationships that don't work out: the agony of being rejected, the fear of accidents that might bereave us, the nightmare of seeing ourselves betrayed by those we had loved and trusted, and who now turn away and hurt us? What can be called a bad thing if it's not that sort of experience?

 I don't thinking am writing to you in the first place, don't take me wrong, but more than anything else I need a friend like you whom i could confide everything in - not necessary the good side of my life lived but also everything where i don't feel the need to censor myself, in a space which make me luminous with your success and that doesn't necessarily come upon with me being your wife or what so ever. Sometimes, some moments even strangers give you bizarre signals of relentless love which are or can be potentially unrequited.

you know, my nani died of a broken heart she was dependent on my nanu, she was living because he lived and they lived without desiring anyone else, all they needed was themselves to live by and bear this life. like all humans, they had acquired the will to live but not to end it so she decayed and decayed until the final day arrived when she wasn't there anymore. I never realised the shock of it, until i grew up and had no one to confide my sadness in, my parents concern was directly invested in my well being, i really couldn't afford to bear myself to them

Immediately after one graduates, one feels the blunt of not having one's close ones close by, something similar i went by realised life is fragile and you need to love someone to caress this fragility otherwise, it breaks you from inside.

we all aspire to do fancy things with someone we love, care and are concerned about - this is my way. I hope i continue feeling this nurtured emotion from times to come.

I'll select pleasant ones over dire ones; when it is open to me, I'll select being with interesting people who help me get along better over those of the boring, self-centered or deceitful kind; if I can choose, I'll select peace and stability over a life of strife and uncertainty — who wouldn't? But we're often not in a position to choose with respect to such external circumstances (external in the sense that they're outside our own control). Whatever depends on them is subject to risk and uncertainty.

Whosoever, fed that idea in my head of free will and determinism they all seem true at different points. which one to side by, is a paradox of choice, or tranny of choice, really ?

Your life is not a movie that can end with the images of the climactic moment — there is always a period after it, and though that may be fine if all this only was a project among others (you might enjoy being the CEO even more than you enjoyed becoming it, or use your status as the champion to work on training the young or become an ambassador for the environment), it's bad for you if it was the sole, defining purpose of your life, for this would mean that now you have a meaningless life on your hands.
years of life going by has made me prone to the slavish adherence the seeming thin balance, the truth is that we all figure somewhere in the middle and to decipher something from there can be a disastrous affair.

But i know one thing, that I want to do and be in my life - an exceptionally skilled conversationalist. After tea, I want to be able to walk around with holing a restful thought in my head.  Narrative pause,"Throughout our conversation, she occasionally touches my forearm. She speaks deliberately, pausing often. She laughs easily and heartily, a sign more of her warmth than of my wit. She has at her disposal what the best conversationalists have: a wealth of experience to draw from." If you hear this ever, its something I would like to be known by, do spare a thought. To be - Unfettered, to be capacitated to enjoy and relish the quirks and quiddities of life, gone past.  

A case of you - youtube collection

case of you - Joni Mitchell Cover

TBIP

Nishtha Jain’s documentary, Gulabi Gang - is about a group of rural women in Uttar Pradesh who fight for the rights of women and Dalits. Sampat Pal Devi formed Gulabi Gang in 2006 to combat corruption and crime against women. The group is named after its pink sari clad members who wield bamboo sticks and seek to bring about justice in a patriarchal society riddled with poverty, caste divisions, and crime. Here’s Nishtha Jain on why she chose to make this documentary, the process of making it, her relationship with Sampat Pal during and after shooting the film, and her views on the gang’s ideology. Gulabi Gang releases in India, in select cities, on February 21.