Lola In The Mirror Quotes

Privilege comes in levels, Brit,” he continued. "You have the privilege he has given you. But you will never have the privilege he has just because he breathes.

He had no intention of making a purchase. He was one of those men who wanted to steal into the fridge at night to binge while everyone was asleep, only to return to their diets—their wives—come morning.

You Are Never Alone While you may feel isolated, there are support systems you can reach out to who truly care about you and deeply understand what you may be going through.

Privilege comes in levels, Brit,” he continued. “You have the privilege he has given you. But you will never have the privilege he has just because he breathes.

To anyone who has ever felt unappreciated, uninvited, or invisible… Your voice is more powerful than you think. You are allowed to exist without explanation. Never let the world convince you that your struggles are invalid.

The trauma she had endured often manifested itself as quiet tears once she was locked in her room, staring at her graveyard of photos.

Do you know what turns me on more than success?” Victoria runs her fingers through Anna’s hair, stopping short to tug at it with intent. Their gazes meet, and Anna is openmouthed in her desire to keep touching, to continue being touched. “What?” she rasps. “Tell me.” “Nothing,” Victoria confirms

I don’t hate tradition. I simply live to shake it up.

My dear Muna,” he started. “I love your spirit. But I would rather go back home and die fighting for something than die here in paradise doing nothing and listening to birdsong.

have been running for so long,” Muna said. “I just want to enjoy the feeling of standing still.

She was used to being the sole Black woman in many rooms, but this place, the air floating around her, felt different. It was blown-up bubble gum, slowly shrinking in on her.

Being different doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you or that you aren’t perfect as you are. It simply means getting special support so you can live your best life.

Oh God." I blink at the mirror. "It looks like I've been vomited on by an inkwell.

In less than a year, he’d developed this carriage. She wasn’t sure if he’d been building his armor of activism the day his mom left him at ten years old or if he had to expedite its construction because Sweden hated sharp edges that stuck out.

Look, I know love has nothing to do with your background or career, but seriously, when a director of marketing starts considering dates from janitors, something is wrong.” An electrician who works out regularly, loves to read, and enjoys Thai food—her favorite.

For every time Lola was happy, she would be happy. Every time Lola was unhappy, she would be unhappy. Her life was doubled, instantly, and she felt the new length of it, the breadth of it, like opening a door one day and discovering her kitchen had turned into the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles.

The boy in front of the free-standing oak mirror wasn’t me. This figure breathed when I breathed, moved when I moved, yet I still couldn’t place him.

She needed balance. Her own moon that would rise and fall with her, keeping her equilibrium, loving her unconditionally.

We are in fact all perfectly different, and what makes us different needs to be fully celebrated within society.

For a start, I ain't homeless, I'm just houseless. Those two things are about as different as resting your head on a silk pillowcase and resting your head on a brick.

A completely different type, of course, from Marina Gregg. The amenities over, Lola pushed back her Fiji Islander hair, drew her generous lipsticked mouth into a provocative pout, and flickering blue eyelids over wide brown eyes

He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. Hugs his sketchbook to his chest. And then he cries. Rubs his eyes with the back of his right hand, which still clutches the sketchbook. I instinctively move four steps towards him along the bridge railing. I want to be beside him. I want to tell him what Ursula Lang says about tears, how she considers laughter the second best way to instantly connect with a stranger, and how she considers crying the first best way to connect with a stranger. A declaration to the world that you feel.

And I thought to myself in that moment that this remarkable interaction had only come about because I’d decided to cartwheel to H&M, because I’d decided to choose wonder. And that’s just about as close to the point of it as I can get. Do I want to walk through this life of mine? Or do I want to cartwheel through it?

It’s amazing how beneficial it can be looking at your life through the lens of a seventy-year-old Englishman who talks like he’s got a fountain pen wedged up his jacksie.

Yeah, I try to tell myself that I don’t need a real name. But I reckon I do. I think it’s important to know who you really are and who you really want to be. I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not a rock. And I sure as hell ain’t no rainbow.

We look to the stars. Backs on the grass. Danny rolls on his side. Props his head up with his left hand. ‘Hey, you still wanna know why I was crying on the bridge?’ he asks. ‘Yeah.’ He sits up. He’s breaking fragments of a twig between his fingers. ‘It’s a bit messed up.’ ‘It is?’ I sit up now, too. ‘Well, now I really wanna know.’ He tosses a bit of a twig over his feet. ‘Sometimes I go to the middle of that bridge and I look over the edge and I think about jumping off,’ he says. ‘Right,’ I say, wondering where he’s going with this. ‘But I’m not doing that in a sad, death way,’ he says. ‘I’m doing that in an alive way.’ ‘An alive way?’ I nod, trying my best to keep up. ‘I don’t think I’d ever jump, but sometimes I really think hard about it, and it terrifies me,’ he says. ‘And then it makes me feel alive. It makes me feel grateful. Because in that instant I feel like I’ve saved myself from certain death. I don’t know what part of me wants to jump, I can’t explain where it comes from, but it’s like some weird part of me always wants to die. I think that’s why I’m scared of heights. Like, have you ever been on one of those balconies in one of those high-rise apartments on the Gold Coast?’ ‘No,’ I say. ‘I live in a van.’ ‘Right,’ he says. ‘Sorry. Entitled dick.’ ‘You’re entitled to be.’ ‘Those Gold Coast apartments have balconies as high as the clouds, but the railings on the balconies don’t even go up past your belly button. You could trip over and that’d be it. Splat. I think some people get scared on those balconies because they are scared of the part of themselves that wants to die. For most of us it’s among the few times in our lives when we come so close to so easily being able to end it all, and we’re terrified by that voice in our heads screaming, “Don’t jump, arsehole,” and it’s like, what sort of crazy fuck has to even say that to themselves? So, sometimes when I’m on that bridge I think all that stuff, and then those thoughts are like reminders of how fucking beautiful it all is. The thought of dying reminds me why I love it all so much. I look at the river and the buildings and the lights and the moon and the stars and the people going past and I say these same words: “You’re so fucking lucky.

Do I want to walk through this life of mine? Or do I want to cartwheel through it?

Your voice is more powerful than you think. You are allowed to exist without explanation even if you feel uninvited, unappreciated, and invisible. Never, ever let the world convince you that your struggles are invalid.

Sometimes it’s good to settle for the side-mirror view of life. Sometimes we don’t want to see the full picture.