A Quote by Augusten Burroughs

It terrified me to consider: What if, as a grown-up, I craved another body beside me as still as this one? What then? — © Augusten Burroughs
It terrified me to consider: What if, as a grown-up, I craved another body beside me as still as this one? What then?
I felt different at 29 because 29, to me, is 30. There are times when I still feel like an actual toddler in a grown-up - well, semi-grown-up - body.
Lie beside me. Let me see the division of your pores. Let me see the web of scars made by your family's claws and you their furniture. Let me see the wounds that they denied. The battle ground of family life that has been your body. Let me see the bruised red lines that signal their encampment. Let me see the routed place where they are gone. Lie beside me and let the seeing be healing. No need to hide. No need for either darkness or light. Let me see you as you are.
Having grown up so familiar with creating a pleasing facade, I now end up compelled to reveal things inside and say, 'Okay, now you really see me. Do you still love me?' And then it's never enough; it always has to be total self-revelation.
I cannot consider fighting in competitive Manly Fun any more than I can consider pitting my running, swimming or climbing body against other bodies. Nothing, then, or now, arouses me or will ever arouse me from a perfect disinterest in ball games.
I have grown up watching Marathi plays and craved to be a part of it.
I was a vegetarian for 10 years and a pescetarian for eight. Then I woke up one day when I was 29 and craved red meat. I'm a big believer in listening to my body's cravings.
When I started it still wasn't okay to be this age and still make this kind of music. And believe me, I consider our stuff to be much poppier than - we're not on like cutting edge, that kind of thing anymore. And even though we're not doing Britney Spears music or Nsync, it's still what I consider to be pop music. So that does give you a little bit more longevity, I guess. But if somebody told me I'd be getting up there and singing "Heartbreaker" at fifty I'd laugh. So I don't know, I have no idea.
I went to see a children's matinee at the movie theatre one summer, but at some point they had changed to the grown up movie in the late afternoon, and I ended up seeing this movie called 'The Bad Seed.' It just terrified me.
People always say it's harder to heal a wounded heart than a wounded body. Bullshit. It's exactly the opposite—a wounded body takes much longer to heal. A wounded heart is nothing but ashes of memories. But the body is everything. The body is blood and veins and cells and nerves. A wounded body is when, after leaving a man you’ve lived with for three years, you curl up on your side of the bed as if there’s still somebody beside you. That is a wounded body: a body that feels connected to someone who is no longer there.
I've reinvented myself every year since 1998, and my style's still changing. It's grittier now. I always gotta try something new. I've grown up. Then I was rapping; now I do music, I write albums. But my distinctive voice and style, people still can't catch it. They're still asking me, "What were you saying on that song?".
There are times when I still feel like an actual toddler in a grown-up - well, semi-grown-up - body. But other times I can't wait to actually be 30, just so I can say things like, "I'm 30. I don't have time for that. F - k off!"
...they told me of color, that it was an illusion of the eye, an event in the perceiver's mind, not in the object; they told me that color had no reality; indeed, they told me that color did not inhere in a physical body any more than pain was in a needle. And then they imprisoned me in darkness; and though there was no color there, I still was black, and they still were white; and for that, they bound and gagged me.
People still recognize me all the time on the street. The first thing they say when they stop me is, 'Where have you been?' The second comment they make is always, 'Oh, you've grown up.'
People still recognize me all the time on the street. The first thing they say when they stop me is, "Where have you been?" The second comment they make is always, "Oh, you've grown up."
Am I still interested in a guy's body? Now that I have grown up, I am much more of a 'vibe' kind of person! If a man has a good body, that is an added plus.
I consider myself fortunate to have grown up in Brooklyn. It's what gave me my drive to succeed, the upward mobility I've been after my whole life.
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