Having an intense desire to speak up for yourself. Becoming angry with how much you’ve let yourself be walked on or how much you’ve let other people’s voices get into your head is a sign that you’re finally ready to stop listening and love yourself by respecting yourself first.

The people you smiled at on the street this morning, the people whom you text regularly, the family you could stand to visit more — all the little bits of genuine human connection that you overlook because they’ve become givens.

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You believe that creating your best life is a matter of deciding what you want, and then going after it, but in reality, you are psychologically incapable of being able to predict what will make you happy. Your brain can only perceive what it's known, so when you choose what you want for the future, you're actually recreating a solution or an ideal of the past. When things don't work out the way you want them to, you think you failed, only because you didn't recreate something you perceived as desirable. In reality, you likely created something better but foreign, and your brain misinterpreted it as bad because of that.

Everything is hard in some way. It’s hard to be in the wrong relationship. It’s hard to be in the right one. It’s hard to be broke and miserable, it’s hard to achieve your dreams. It’s hard to be stuck in the middle, not really feeling anything at all. Everything is hard, but you choose your hard. You choose what’s worth it. You don’t choose whether or not you’ll suffer, but you do choose what you want to suffer for.

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This is what’s going on when people push others away or give up on their big dreams the moment something challenging comes up. When we are so scared that we are going to lose something, we tend to push it away from ourselves first as a means of self-preservation.

Being in love with somebody that you only used to know is like falling in love with a book (which sounds like a dumb example but people really do fall in love with them). The point is: You can love it all you want, but it’s a story that runs parallel to yours. At the end of the day it’s static. It’s memory. It’s a sentence and you can’t change it. It ends how it ends. It says what it says.

Your story is not to be written as a novel you are a collection of the people you’ve become and the people you’ve yet to be a series of stories told in sequence sometimes with rhyme and sometimes without reason a neverending exploration of every corner of your potential please don’t worry if you cannot converge your old selves you are not meant to understand them you are only meant to set them free