A Quote by Patrick Ness
And if one day,' she said, really crying now, 'you look back and you feel bad for being so angry, if you feel bad for being so angry at me that you couldn't even speak to me, then you have to know, Conor, you have to that is was okay. It was okay. That I knew. I know, okay? I know everything you need to tell me without you having to say it out loud.
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If I'm having a bad day I put on the very best thing I have. I polish my shoes, I shine everything up, because that helps me get though the day. It helps me, you know, it's in a sense armor. It says, okay, I'm a mess inside but you know what, on the outside I'm going to be pulled together, everything is okay.
It took me a long time to get to a position where I can feel that, with my art, I'm capable of saying what I need to say, and once I finish it, I can sit back and say, "It's done, and I'm okay with that. People can judge it good or bad, and it doesn't matter. I'm okay with it because I said something I needed to say." That's a really hard place to get, as an artist.
Im okay Im okay now. But you really need to listen to me 'cause im telling you the truth I mean this im okay Trust me... Im not okay ...Well okay im not okay. Im not o-f cking-kay
Coming into this, making music, I knew that was something that was going to be held over my head. Okay we get it, you're openly gay, but do you know how to rap? Can you really rap and deliver? And I feel like I have that pressure put on me that other artists don't. A lot of people don't have to focus on being so lyrical and actually putting on shows. Before anyone was gonna tell me I was bad, I was gonna prove that I was good.
You panic button collector. You clock of beautiful ticks. You run out the door if you need to. You flock to the front row of your own class. You feather everything until you know you can always, always shake like a leaf on my family tree and know you belong here. You belong here and everything you feel is okay. Everything you feel is okay.
I love you present tense,” I whispered, and then put my hand on the middle of his chest and said, “It’s okay, Gus. It’s okay. It is. It’s okay, you hear me?” I had—and have—absolutely no confidence that he could hear me. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Okay,” I said. “Okay.
I'm okay with having bad dance moves. I'm okay with having horrible lower teeth. That's what makes me me, and for some reason it's worked out all right.
The biggest lesson I’ve learned is, “It’s okay.” It’s okay for me to be kind to myself. It’s okay to be wrong. It’s okay to get mad. It’s ok to be flawed. It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to move on.
How I wish I could hug everyone and tell them that it's okay. It's okay to be scared and angry and hurt and selfish. It's part of being human.
If I'm having a really bad day, I always have a girlfriend - or even a guy friend - who I can call. They'll listen to me wallow for a minute and then be like, 'Okay, let's stop. Everything's great. Let's figure out how to fix whatever's bothering you.'
Okay, okay, backing off. Um, I suppose this would be a bad time to ask you to talk to Pete for me, you know, about the car?' His eyes widened. I could almost hear him thinking, Of all the nerve! 'You were driving,' he said. 'But he likes you so much better than me.' 'That is because I do not keep wrecking the rentals.
And I was -- this is just how I was afraid you'd take it. I knew it, that you'd think this means you were right to be afraid all the time and never feel secure or trust me. I knew it'd be "See, you're leaving after all when you promised you wouldn't." I knew it but I'm trying to explain anyway, okay? And I know you probably won't understand this either, but --wait-- just try to listen and maybe absorb this, okay? Ready? Me leaving is not the confirmation of all your fears about me. It is not. It's because of them.
I know. So, I was angry with you. I didn't know why. I was angry with the world. I did know why. I hated all my therapists for being useless. I was this little ball of self-destructive fury, and none of them could do anything but tell me that I was a little ball of self-destructive fury. [...] I knew I was angry. Tell me what to do with that anger, please.
When I was little and something awful was happening my Mama would tell me to close my eyes.She was tryin' to keep me from seeing her do drugs or other bad things. And then when she was finished or the bad things were over she'd say, “now when I count to three, you open your eyes and the past is gone, the world is a good place,and it's all gonna be okay.
What's wrong with trying hard and showing up and being good at your job? We really need to look at ourselves and say we need to reevaluate this. We need to reevaluate that women who ask for a pay raise or ask for a promotion - it's actually an okay thing. It's okay to be ambitious; it's okay to be over-prepared.
My girlfriend's weird. One day she asked me, 'If you could know how and when you were going to die, would you want to know?' I said, 'No.' She said, 'Okay, forget it.
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