In an era of stress and anxiety, when the present seems unstable and the future unlikely, the natural response is to retreat and withdraw from reality, taking recourse either in fantasies of the future or in modified visions of a half-imagined past.
Alan MooreTags: psychology uncertainty delusion angst conservatism anxiety
The letter had been crumpled up and tossed onto the grate. It had burned all around the edges, so the names at the top and bottom had gone up in smoke. But there was enough of the bold black scrawl to reveal that it had indeed been a love letter. And as Hannah read the singed and half-destroyed parchment, she was forced to turn away to hide the trembling of her hand.
—should warn you that this letter will not be eloquent. However, it will be sincere, especially in light of the fact that you will never read it. I have felt these words like a weight in my chest, until I find myself amazed that a heart can go on beating under such a burden.
I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I want you in ways that I know you would find shocking. My love, you don't belong with a man like me. In the past I've done things you wouldn't approve of, and I've done them ten times over. I have led a life of immoderate sin. As it turns out, I'm just as immoderate in love. Worse, in fact.
I want to kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and faint, pleasure you until you weep, and dry every tear with my lips. If you only knew how I crave the taste of you. I want to take you in my hands and mouth and feast on you. I want to drink wine and honey from you.
I want you under me. On your back.
I'm sorry. You deserve more respect than that. But I can't stop thinking of it. Your arms and legs around me. Your mouth, open for my kisses. I need too much of you. A lifetime of nights spent between your thighs wouldn't be enough.
I want to talk with you forever. I remember every word you've ever said to me.
If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you.
You would say it's too soon to feel this way. You would ask how I could be so certain. But some things can't be measured by time. Ask me an hour from now. Ask me a month from now. A year, ten years, a lifetime. The way I love you will outlast every calendar, clock, and every toll of every bell that will ever be cast. If only you—
And there it stopped.
Tags: love passion romance angst hannah-appleton love-letters rafe-bowman
It's my duty as a human being to be pissed off
Eric BogosianTags: injustice youth status-quo idealism anger angst
The yellow commuter train ran through canal-crossed fields as dull as graph paper. Always one saw evidence of the tiny brick houses that the incontinent municipalities, Voorschoten and Leidschendam and Rijswijk and Zoetermeer, pooped over the rural spaces surrounding The Hague.
Joseph O'NeillTags: angst modern-society
I'm Allen Walker!"
My life....is over...I'm going to die....
Tags: humor pain death horror die angst allen-walker sumon
Are these things really better than the things I already have? Or am I just trained to be dissatisfied with what I have now?
Chuck PalahniukTags: consumerism lullaby angst dissatisfaction want palahniuk more
Ich musste mich zusammennehmen! Ich wollte einfach keine Furcht mehr empfinden! Aber so fest ich mir's vornahm, immer regte sich ein zweites Ich, und dieses zweite Ich - hatte Furcht. Ich fragte mich, was es eigentlich zu fürchten gäbe. Mein tapferes Ich spottete über das feige Ich. Nie habe ich so wie an diesem Tage den Gegensatz der beiden Wesen verspürt, die in uns wohnen. Das eine will, das andere widerstrebt, und wechselnd haben sie die Oberhand.
Guy de MaupassantTags: angst
She couldn’t get any farther away inside from her skin. She couldn’t get away.
Cynthia VoigtTags: rape angst girl skin teen incest
She looked at her hand: Just some hand, holding a cheap pen. Some girls’ hand. She had nothing to do with that hand. Let that hand do whatever it wanted to.
Cynthia VoigtTags: writing freedom rape angst girl pen teen incest
Angst is not the human condition, it’s the purgatory between what we have and what we want but can’t get.
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