It’s always been hard to be bohemian. Is it harder now? Does art matter anymore? Does reading matter anymore? We want to be digitally liked. We stray away from reality and don’t feel sorry about it. Who can survive this? I’m going to take a shower now.– Page read by JEREMY MIKUSH.
Quit pretending you’re weaker than you are. What are you ashamed of exactly? When you fill better after being ill you will be thankful. It happens all the time. You will then forget what you went through. It happens all the time.– Page read by BRETT AMORY.
My great expectations have completely dissolved. The cause of it was me, the fault of it was mine. There are many things that I may regret in this world where no one regrets anything. But I think I’ll go for a walk instead.– Page read by TEMPE WILLIAMS.
Is he the right man? I’m ashamed to answer him. If he would solve every single problem he would not be any less worried. However, nothing can be really solved anymore. So he’s not really suffering from having problems: he is the problem.– Page read by CHRISTOPHER NOXON.
Beauty is everywhere where we cannot be. We’re always peering through a hole, wanting that rich summer growth on the other side. We know that side better than ours. Everything is colorless and complicated here, everything is dumb and tenderless. Where did my old, simple promise go?– Page read by OLIVIA APPLEGATE.
Attention please! Distraction has broken into your dwelling and and has taken everything: your pretty emotions, your inherited opinions, your creativity savings, the sheets, your scattered appreciation for beauty. Note: You will not be able to leave anything to anyone in your will. PS: You better not die anytime soon until you recover something back.– Page read by NAOMI YAMADA.
A few years ago we could die without exceeding the minimum of vulgarity that seems indecorously unavoidable right before passing. But today that tiny level of vulgarity before passing is not kept to a minimum anymore, it has become its own single reality. We die in the most vulgar, insipid, and trivial way. I refuse going out that way.– Page read by SUSAN LANGFORD.
How long until you become something different than what you are not? Let me interrupt your search for that someone among strangers who has gone deeper than you. Don’t go to them, don’t kiss their hand, don’t talk. They haven’t really gone deeper, they are just craving to collapse, and determined to drag you with them.– Page read by LuLu LoLo.
I sometimes struggle with the words “I am”. What’s the real point of their existence? When you turn the worst point of your self-pity, you start realizing of your true and ultimate duty in life: analyzing your own demise and determining how quickly you can get there. That’s when you start using the words “I am” more frequently.– Page read by JACQUELINE SUSKIN.
I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t recognize you. Who are you anyway? Can you cry without shame? Can you conquer the fear of ridicule? I didn’t think so either. Time seems interminable. How far away is chaos? Are we there yet?– Page read by MATTHEW COUPER.
Reality is really illogical, morality cannot be saved. I don’t want to leave it to others to determine what is wrong from what is right, I want others to determine what is harmful from what is not. We can put it off but not put it away.– Page read by JEN O’DONNELL.
There is no reason to worry about time running out. Nothing can be solved in this world anyway, so look affectionately to me, I will take you back and tell you a secret before you return to the present and die.– Page read by JESSICA NICOLE WEBB.
I have never deserted you. The fact is that Death, the experience of nothingness, ultimately shows up under a ridiculous spotlight and takes you away. What does it really mean? I doubt my last words will be “I never complain”. We always complain, we build our lives over a graveyard of complaints.– Page read by WILL BRITTAIN.
The world doesn’t care what you think or what you do. It’s not that people are mean, everyone is busy. Instead of pushing out petitions for attention out in the cold, dusty night, why don’t you simply enjoy the freedom you get from within the obscurity?– Page read by MICHELLE FLANAGAN.