Quotes About Self-awareness

I looked at my hand resting on the shelf of the prop cabinet, thinking of the scars that were there whether anyone could see them or not.

Don't ask me how I am,' I blurt. 'Please.' I want to keep feeling good. Just because the lights are on doesn't mean I have to look.

When I'm at my best, my writing identity comes from a deep and quiet place where the noise of approval and disapproval is a neutral background landscape more than a declaration of who I am. Conversely, the times I feel the worst about being a writer are when I'm looking for likes, fishing for approval, or otherwise in search of evidence that I'm somebody, because I've momentarily forgotten I already am.

There's just something obvious about emptiness, even when you try to convince yourself otherwise.

It was so easy to disown what you couldn't recognize, to keep yourself apart from things that were foreign and unsettling. The only person you can be sure to control, always, is yourself. Which is a lot to be sure of, but at the same time, not enough.

I've always known who I am. I might not work perfectly, or be like them, but that's okay. I know I work in my own way.

Suddenly, I was just sure he was going to kiss me. He was there, I could feel his breath, the ground solid beneath us. But then something crossed his face, a thought, a hesitation, and he shifted slightly. Not now. Not yet. It was something I'd done so often - weighing what I could afford to risk, right at that moment - that I recognized it instantly. It was like looking in a mirror.

When I got to my own face, I found myself staring at it, so bright with dark all around it, like it was someone I didn't recognize. Like a word on a page that you've printed and read a million times, that suddenly looks strange or wrong, foreign, and you feel scared for a second, like you've lost something, even if you're not sure what it is.

And that was it; it was so easy for her. My own memories did not even belong to me. But I knew she was wrong. I had seen that comet. I knew it as well as I knew my own face, my own hands. My own heart.

You didn't fail. You just opted out. There's a difference.

Don't I know it.

You knew the truth all along, Colie. That's all matters. You knew.

He was looking at me, jsut as I'd thought he would be, but like Bert's, his light was not what I expected. No pity, no sadness: nothing had changed. I realized all the times I'd felt people stare at me, their faces had been pictures, abstracts. None of them were mirrors, able to reflect back the expression I thought one I wore, the feelings only I felt.

We didn't talk about our scars, the ones you could see and the ones you couldn't.

You get what you give, but also what you're willing to take.

So I left him there alone to watch history repeat the same events retold again and again on his own.

At the very least you should tell yourself the truth. If you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?

You couldn't see the key around my neck: it hung too low under both collars. But if I leaned in close, I could make it out, buried deep beneath. Out of sight, hard to recognize, but still able to be found, even if I was the only one to ever look for it.

As I stepped out to face myself in the mirror, reaching a hand to smooth away the steam, I saw myself differently. It was as if I had grown again as I slept, but this time just to fit my own size. As if my soul had expanded, filling out the gaps of the height that had burdened me all these months. Like a balloon filling slowly with air, becoming all smooth and buoyant, I felt like I finally fit within myself, edge to edge, every crevice filled.

Roo had seen something in it, and recognized a part of me that matched. How could someone know you better than yourself? Especially if they really didn't know you, not at all.

There comes a time in every life when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you'd better learn to know the sound of it. Otherwise you'll never understand what it's saying.

Hay un momento en la vida en el que el mundo se calla y lo único que queda es tu propio corazón. Así que más vale que aprendas cómo suena. Si no, nunca entenderás lo que está diciendo.

I still felt unformed, like a cake half baked with edges crisp, but still mushy in the middle.

Yo sabía que tenía muchos defectos, e incluso más secretos. Pero no quería estar sola. Ni a las dos de la mañana, ni ahora.