A Quote by Sam Smith
'Stay With Me,' for me, is my own personal anthem to the 'walk of shame...' that we've all gone through. It's the feeling after a one-night stand of not wanting that person to leave, even if you don't love them and don't even like them. It's about having that body next to you.
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In my mind I first felt like, Oh, I'll be back to work right after the babies are born. But then you don't want to. Even now, it's very difficult for me to leave them in the morning. It just tortures me. I'm like, It's been hours; are they wondering where I am? Do they know that I love them so much and I'm thinking only about them?
Every time I was playing basketball, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn't realize that feeling was having to leave my family - having to leave my sister, who can't even communicate with me when I'm gone.
You see it is important to understand how damaged people don't always know how to say yes, or to choose the big thing, even when it is right in front of them. It's a shame we carry. The shame of wanting something good. The shame of feeling something good. The shame of not believing we deserve to stand in the same room in the same way as all those we admire. Big red As on our chests.
I think having not only personal connections with friends and family I'm able to pull from, but having a connection with so many people through social media, it also feels like I have a relationship with those people that follow me. And feel that what I'm going through, they've gone through something similar, and that's why we've connected. And they're the ones that make it into that body of work that represents them or that time in their life, because we've found each other.
[I]t just makes me tired even thinking about it. It reminds me of that feeling I had before I left. Like my lungs were made of lead. Like I can't even think about starting to care about anything. Like I either wish that they were all dead, or I was, because I can't stand the pull of all that history between us. That's before I even pick up the phone. I'm so tired I never want to wake up again. But I've figured out now that it was never them that made me feel that way. It was just me, all along.
The Internet is a very intimate entertainment experience. I'm in my own apartment talking to people, and I want them to feel like they're with me in my apartment. So if I'm listening to them and taking ideas from them and being honest with how I'm feeling, it resonates even more that we're having a real, actual conversation.
I have an experience with as many of my readers as possible that's really genuine. I love it when they write to me, and I'm able to send them things. I love meeting them in person, and even if it's only for a moment I love having that physical, touching interaction.
This is how they justify not wanting to strive for self-improvement. It's how they explain their continued inaction. It's just an excuse. There are plenty of video clips on the Internet showing what I really look like. Some people even spread rumors about me and retouch my pictures to hurt me. But I don't take them seriously. I'm even flattered! It's what success is like. I'm happy I seem unreal to them, it means I'm doing a good job.
Part of what I like about the best villains in TV and film is when you feel sorry for them, and that makes you feel even worse for feeling guilty about wanting them to succeed, in some way.
I've never done a kissing scene with someone even when you're friends. I mean that sort of even makes it weirder. If you don't know them or like them at all, you can kind of put some weird like ... I don't know. It's the strangest thing. Look at the person next to you and imagine making out with them now, while I film it.
I love my parents and they're wonderful people, but they were strict, and I still look for ways to get even. When I got my own apartment for the very first time and they came to stay with me for the weekend, I made them stay in separate bedrooms.
Everyday, the mail brings the thousands of letters, and you hand over to Me personally hundreds more. Yet, I do not take the help of anyone else, even to open the envelopes. For, you write to me intimate details of your personal problems, believing that I alone will read them and having implicit confidence in Me. You write, each one only a single letter, that makes for Me a huge bundle a day; and I have to go through all of them. You may ask how I manage it? Well I do not waste a single moment.
Change no one. Change nothing. React to no one, react to nothing. Do not live in the past and do not, worry about the future. Stay in the eternal now, where all is well. After all you are me and I am you. There's no difference. Do not react to the world. Do not even react to your own body. Do not even react to your own thoughts. Learn to become the witness. Learn to be quiet.
I can't even dial one phone number right away. But you strained your own body to go and see them. I was surprised. The frightened little me had always wondered how to swim through the vast ocean, but you didn't even want a ship. You wanted wings. I thought you were amazing.
I've got evil in me as much as anyone, some desires that scare me. Even if I don't give in to them, just having them scares the living bejesus out of me sometimes. I'm no saint, the way you kid about. But I've always walked the line, walked that goddamned line. It's a mean mother of a line, straight and narrow, sharp as a razor, cuts right into you when you walk it long enough. You're always bleeding on that line, and sometimes you wonder why you don't just step off and walk in the cool grass.
Essentially, if our secrets are secrets because we are told to be ashamed, then we must share them. There is no shame in being sad or struggling or trying to heal. We are all desperate, depraved and sacred. We are all terrible and brillIant. I can list all the things that can make a girl want to escape her own body (re: patriarchy). But I’d rather list all the things that make me want to stay in my body, and adorn it like a home, rub oils into my skin, tell it how sorry I am for trying to leave, for trying to hurt it into submission
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