“I like not only to be loved, but also to be told that I am loved. I am not sure that you are of the same kind. But the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave. This is the world of light and speech, and I shall take leave to tell you that you are very dear.”

— George Eliot, “Letter to Georgiana Burne-Jones (1875)”

just

(...) there's something about being so hopelessly lonely that you're like "all I can really do is dance. There's nothing else I can do; I can’t talk this away, I can't fix these problems, I'm just going to go out and dance."

ela diz que o seu pior pesadelo é a repetição
viver no loop
o mesmo erro o mesmo erro o mesmo erro
circling the same old sin
às vezes (demasiadas vezes) tenho medo de ter vindo ao mundo só para viver os meus medos