Quotes About Self-awareness

My heart's in the right place. I know, cuz I hid it there.

Back then I was always looking ahead to who I wanted to be versus who I didn't realize I already was, and the wished-for me was most likely based on who other people seemed to be and the desire to have the same effect on others that they had had on me.

who do I think I would've been if I hadn't been Princess Leia? Am I Princess Leia, or is she me? Split the difference and you'd be closer to the truth. Star Wars was and is my job. It can't fire me and I'll never be able to quit, and why would I want to? (That's

There's no room for demons when you're self possessed.

Put it into words—you can't feel words. I think that if I could give a name to what I feel it would go away. Find the word that describes the feeling and say it over and over until it's merely a sound.

I was a voracious reader, but part of what that taught me was that I was nowhere near as scholarly as I wanted to be. I was precocious, but how many years beyond your teens can you be called that with sincerity?

I thought I was only seeing half the man But that was all there was to you You

we look for people that are gold in the place where we're shit and shit in the places where we're gold

Imagine having a mood system that functions essentially like weather—independently of whatever's going on in your life.

I think I am Princess Leia and Princess Leia is me. It's like a Mobius Striptease.

Who do you want them to think you are? How do you think people see you? Or don't you let them near enough to see. You make up their minds for them. Do you think that you succeed in convincing people that you are what you seem to be?

not nice being inside my head. It's a nice place to visit but I don't want to live in here. It's too crowded; too many traps and pitfalls. I'm tired of it. The same old person, day in and day out. I'd like to try something else. I tried to neaten my mind, file everything away into tidy little thoughts, but it only got more and more cluttered. My mind has a mind of its own. I try to define my

I suspect that no matter what happens I will allow it to hurt me. Eat away at my insides, as it were - as it will be. As it always has been. Why am I so accessible? Why do I give myself to people who will always and should always remain strangers? I have always relied on the cruelty of strangers and I must stop it now. I am a fool. I need a vacation from myself. I'm not very good at it lately.

You needn't ever make mountains out of molehills again. You have misjudged yourself. You are not who you think you are.

Here's what he said: People adapt to you. Don't worry, you can't be what they think of ou to any degree, and by the same token what they think of you can't alter you.

I don't believe people are across-the-board confident. If they are . . . well, they've misjudged the situation where there's an arrogant result. Mostly people have those few things they do well and hope those things make up for the other shit.

I knew my name. So I let him know I knew it. 'Yeah,' I said in a voice very like mine. Mine but hollow, mine but it didn't matter because my stomach had swung into action.

But ultimately I feel I'm very sane about how crazy I am.

I am a spy in the house of me. I report back from the front lines of the battle that is me. I am somewhat nonplused by the event that is my life.

ultimately you could say that I don't have a problem with drugs so much as I have a problem with sobriety.

But periodically I do explode. Now the good thing about this is that over time, the explosions have gotten smaller and the recovery time is faster, but what is guaranteed is that I will explode.

The only thing that scares me now is me. The [person] I might become. The [person] I dont ever want to be. Everybody has fears, right? But how many have my fear? Enough, it seems. Because there's a name for it. Autophobia. Fear of oneself.

I am not a good fighter," I try to explain again, fingering the edge of my shirt. "I mean, I am really bad at fighting, not as bad as my friend Issie, who is possibly the least fightery person in the world. I mean, I'm getting better, but still... I mean-- oh I'm sorry. I'm babbling.

You're perfect,aren't you?" "I am a werewolf," he says between bites. He bends his head. "That just gives you a totally good excuse for your pathetic temper." He wiggles his eyebrows. "True.