Quotes About Vulnerability

I've already just completely opened up about my shame and my inability to be open and straightforward about this. You're exposing something I've already held up to view. It's your shame about being ashamed of what you're afraid might be seen as a lack of brightness that's getting to stay buried under this dead horse of my deformity that you're trying to whip.

I fear this feeling more than I fear anything, man. More than pain, or my mom dying, or environmental toxicity. Anything.

Once he'd been set off inside, it mattered so much that he was somehow afraid to show how much it mattered.

That sometimes human beings have to just sit in one place and, like, hurt.

Lenore, it's simply that I love you. You know that. Every fiber of your being is loved by every fiber of my being. The thought of things about you, concerning you, troubling you, that I don't know about, makes blood run from my eyes, on the inside.

O está pasando algo, un extraño vínculo que siento que nos une, algo así como si se me cayeran todas las defensas personales y me abriera totalmente a ti? Supongo que debo esperar que no te aproveches. ¿Te suena esto como algo burdo? Tal vez lo sea. Supongo que me gustaría estar más tranquilo. No sé qué hacer salvo contarte lo que siento en mi interior, aunque parezca una torpeza.

We're all on each other's food chain. All of us. It's an individual sport. Welcome to the meaning of individual. We're each deeply alone here. It's what we all have in common, this aloneness.

The weird thing is that I cared about him at the same time I found him gross. He grossed me out... And that I was so deep in my problem that I couldn't accept real, genuine, nonsexual or nonromantic or non-prettiness-type interest in me even if it was offered to me.

Al parecer, hay personas profundamente temerosas de sus propias emociones, en especial de las dolorosas. Penas profundas, arrepentimientos, tristezas. En especial la tristeza, tal vez. Como si algo que se siente de verdad y por completo no tuviera fin ni fondo. Algo que podría volverse infinito y atraparlos.

Gately's snapped to the fact that people of a certain age and level of like life-experience believe they're immortal: college students and alcoholics/addicts are the worst: they deep-down believe they're exempt from the laws of physics and statistics that ironly govern everybody else.

I have always tried to avoid talking to pretty girls, because pretty girls have a vicious effect on me in which every part of my brain is shut down except for the part that says unbelievably stupid things and the part that is aware that I am saying unbelievably stupid things. (From The Planet Trillaphon as It Stands in Relation to the Bad Thing)

We're all on each other's food chain. All of us. It's an individual sport. Welcome to the meaning of individual. We're each deeply alone here. It's what we all have in common, this aloneness.

His white knit shirt and name-brand shorts were soaked through so you could see the straps of his jock biting into the soft ass I was handing him. He

Two dry mouths bumping at each other, trying to kiss, his self-conscious thoughts twisting around on themselves like a snake on a stick while he bucked and snorted dryly above her, his swollen eyes red and his face sagging so that its slack folds maybe touched, limply, the folds of her own loose sagging face as it sloshed back and forth on his pillow, its mouth working dryly. The thought was repellent.

There was something almost unbearably touching about a bald spot on a handicapped man.

the feeling that you'd do absolutely anything or say or trade anything to persuade him to simply settle for rape and let you go, or even torture, even willing to bring to the bargaining table a bit of nonlethal torture if only he'd settle for hurting you and choose to drive off and leave you hurt and breathing in the weeds and sobbing at the sky and traumatized beyond all recovery instead of as nothing

Capii che gli ubriachi e gli storpi vengono trascinati fuori dall'arena come Cristi disossati, un uomo sotto ogni braccio, coi piedi che strisciano a terra, gli occhi al cielo.

That having sex with someone you do not care for feels lonelier than not having sex in the first place, afterward. That it is permissible to want.

Cuando la noche anterior Lenore Beadsman lloró frente a Andrew Sealander Lang fue la primera vez en su vida que había llorado frente a alguien. Rick Vigorous había llorado frente a montones de personas.

The defecatory posture is an accepting posture, it occurs to him. Head down, elbows on knees, the fingers laced together between the knees.

351. As in a combination of the First and Twelfth Steps, goes the AA joke: 'My Life is Unmanageable and I'd Like to Share it With You.

Because it literally makes no sense. Close to two hundred people all punishing somebody by getting embarrassed for him, killing him by empathetically dying right there with him, for him, up there at the podium. The applause when this guy's done has the relieved feel of a fist unclenching, and their cries of 'Keep Coming!' are so sincere it's almost painful.

The emotionally Hobbesian meat market of the dating scene.

He knows, now, that nearly everything you call yours in the world can be taken away from you by other people, assuming that they want it enough.