The thing people forget is how good it can feel when you finally set secrets free. Whether good or bad, at least they’re out in the open, like it or not. And once your secrets are out in the open, you don’t have to hide behind them anymore. The problem with secrets is even when you think you’re in control, you’re not.

At the end of the day, faith is a funny thing. It turns up when you don’t really expect it. It’s like one day you realize that the fairytale may be slightly different than you dreamed. The castle, well, it may not be a castle. And it’s not so important that it’s happy ever after. Just that it’s happy right now. See, once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you. And once in a while people may even take your breath away.

If life’s so hard already, why do we bring more trouble down on ourselves? What’s up with the need to hit the self-destruct button?

Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we’re wired that way. Because without it, I don’t know, maybe we just wouldn’t feel real. What’s that saying? Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop.

The early bird catches the worm. A stitch in time saves nine. He who hesitates is lost. We can’t pretend we haven’t been told. We’ve all heard the proverbs, heard the philosophers, heard our grandparents warning us about wasted time, heard the damn poets urging us to “seize the day”. Still sometimes we have to see for ourselves. We have to make our own mistakes. We have to learn our own lessons. We have to sweep today’s possibility under tomorrow’s rug until we can’t anymore, until we finally understand for ourselves what Benjamin Franklin meant. That knowing is better than wondering, that waking is better than sleeping. And that even the biggest failure, even the worst most intractable mistake beats the hell out of never trying.

Unfortunately, once you get past the age of braces and training bras, responsibility doesn’t go away. It can’t be avoided. Either someone makes us face it or we suffer the consequences. And still, adulthood has it perks. I mean, the shoes, the sex, the no parents anywhere telling you what to do. That’s pretty damn good.

Intimacy is a four syllable word for “Here are my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy.” It’s both desired, and feared. Difficult to live with, and impossible to live without. Intimacy also comes attached to life’s three R’s: relatives, romance, and roommates. There are some things you can’t escape. And other things you just don’t want to know.

I wish there was a rulebook for intimacy. Some kind of a guide that could tell you when you’ve crossed the line. It would be nice if you could see it coming. No matter how you fit it on a map, you take it where you can get it, and keep it as long as you can. And as for rules, maybe there are none. Maybe the rules of intimacy are something you have to define for yourself.

After a while -the ways of residency- become the ways of life. Number one: always keep score. Number two: do whatever you can to outsmart the other guy. Number three: Don’t make friends with the enemy. Oh, and, yeah, number four: everything, everything is a competition. Whoever said that winning wasn’t everything never held a scalpel.

There’s another way to survive this competition. A way no one ever seems to tell you about. One you have to learn for yourself. Number five: it’s not about the race at all. There are no winners or losers. Victories are counted by the number of lives saved. And once in a while, if you’re smart, the life you save could be your own.

At some point, you have to make a decision. Boundaries don’t keep other people out. They fence you in. Life is messy. That’s how we’re made. So, you can waste your life drawing lines, or you can live your life crossing them. But there are some lines that are way too dangerous to cross. But here’s what I know: if you’re willing to take the chance… the view from the other side is spectacular.

I can’t think of any one reason why I want to be a surgeon. But I can think of a thousand reasons why I should quit. They make it hard on purpose. There are lives in our hands. There comes a moment when it’s more than just a game. And you either take that step forward or turn around and walk away. I could quit, but here’s the thing… I love the playing field.

(via chaotique)

“This is our wedding, a post-it?”

(via chaotique)

(via chaotique)

(via loryan)

There is a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasn’t because I thought I would be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone. Because what if you learn that you need love? And then you don’t have it. What if you like it? And lean on it? What if you shape your life around it? And then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is death ends. This? It could go on forever.

It’s one of those things that people say: you can’t move on until you let go of the past. Letting go is the easy part, it’s the moving on that’s painful. So sometimes we fight it, try and keep things the same. Things can’t stay the same, though. At some point, you just have to let go. Move on. Because no matter how painful it is, it’s the only way we grow.