David Levithan Quotes

Why am I so soft in the middle when the rest of my life is so hard?

I'm always on the verge of death in my head.

If you hear somebody say something absolutely horrendous about their own life, in quite a flippant, offbeat kind of way, when you meet people clearly trying to be strong and brave, the ones who are really good at it are the ones who break my heart the most.

If I didn't have that, fear and projections over what was coming next could have taken over. But it was tough. Don't think I was an angel. It was hell.

Do you have to make me feel like there's nothing left of me? You can take everything I have, you can break everything I am, like I am made of glass, like I am made of paper.Go on and try to tear me down I will be rising from the ground like a Skyscraper.

as the shadows assume shapes I fight the slow retreat now my once-promise dwindling dwindling now lighting new cigarettes pouring more drinks it has been a beautiful fight still is.

Well, I did know - but I just wanted the day to pass and the next day to come and then I wanted that one to pass. It was a horrible cycle. I felt so close to having to pack the game in.

It is a queer thing, but imaginary troubles are harder to bear than actual ones.

Like everyone else, I've had moments when I've felt that I've been losing my grip.

Everybody feels good in their skin for about a minute a day, and the rest of the day, you're just trying to navigate your way through the sea of terror.

No, originally I thought that writing articles would keep me from having to see a psychiatrist, but I became even more depressed as a result.

There's moments where I want to break down and cry, but not give up.

Generally, I play the kind of ethereal, fragile-on-the-outside-but-hard-and-damaged-on-the-inside type.

There are moments when your mind is very vulnerable. You feel a lot of doubts.

Really, when you look at it, you're not battling the chemo, you're battling yourself the whole time. It was me versus me. There were many times where I didn't know if I would wake up tomorrow. I would just be up, scared to go to sleep.

I am not brave. I am very weak. I am trying to overcome my problems. I do cry, I do break but I think that's normal.

Every day, I walk the streets with my head held high, but deep down inside, sometimes I'm like, 'I just hope I can get through the day.'

Dysphoria will always be a painful place.

In the end, the tortures tearing the Lisbon girls pointed to a simple reasoned refusal to accept the world as it was handed down to them, so full of flaws.

I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.

I have fought and kicked and fasted and prayed and cursed and cried myself to the point of existing.

No mat­ter how much I try and hide this, bit by bit, I start to fall apart.

You, sleeping on your bed of nails. Weeping an ocean beyond the pale. Strange, sorrow is your greatest skill. You're suffering from overkill... Choose whether to laugh or to cry. Menace and promise mingle in your eye. Wait, it's only a matter of time. You know everything will be fine... Rain falls down and the seas run high. When you're by my side we can rise above it. Let me dry all the tears inside. On your way you cannot hide from the howling wind and the roaring tide. You might get hurt but your fears will subside when you at last escape from the tears inside.

I can't drown my demons. They know how to swim.

I'm suffering very much, but am I suffering very well? That's the point!