"He is not a constellation.
You should not wish to be the cigarette touching his lips.
He will not appear through the fog and heal your wounds.
Only you can do that.
So get out of bed and put on some lipstick.
Stop falling at his feet.
"Small talk makes me feel the way I do when a mosquito is buzzing around my head — irritated — and then finally unable to get any relief I just slaughter the damn thing. I slaughter the moment by saying something real."
bell hooks, “Wounds of Passion: A Writing Life” (via et—cetera)