“Why didn’t you comb your hair”- most of the girl with curly hair have heard this at least once.
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“I have done it,” she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S. “Go,” she says. “He waits for you.” In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.” ― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles “I have fallen, fallen into the arms of lost hope. I’m lost, unsure whether to stay where I am or stand up and risk falling so painfully again. Maybe if I stay here the pain of my dreams ripping from my soul will fade. Maybe I can learn to enjoy seeing my aspirations, the beauty shining brightly, fade into the distance. I don’t think I can learn to love this stagnant water of doubt in which I’ve fallen. I have to stand up. I have to take a step towards my glowing dreams. Fear will cling to my ankles, attempting to pull me back down, its ropes of anxiety wrapping tightly into me. I may even trip, giving fear a minor victory, but I will stand again. I will keep getting up, over and over again, until my legs grow strong, my mind becomes resilient, and my fear weakens. Let fear fight me, I know I am strong enough to overcome anything it throws my way.” ― Avina Celeste