“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.”—Anaïs Nin (via fernsandmoss)
I really need to study, but I just want to listen to sad music and wallow all night in my previously subdued regrets. Also I want to rant for an hour or so about all of the people that live in a bubble of fallacies and refuse to see truth.