Neil Hilborn Quotes

How to kill yourself without hurting anyone. Don't.

The first time I saw her, Everything in my head went quiet.

You will never be more wrong than the first time you say "I love you." You will mean it, sure, but you'll still be lying.

Things that I Hope Are True about Heaven That the radio always plays what would have been your favourite songs. That there's always coffee if you want it. That you're there. That it's real.

When you're dumb enough for long enough, you're gonna meet someone too smart to love you, and they're gonna love you anyway, and its gonna go so poorly.

...and I am sitting in this park watching an old couple almost cry together, and I want this to be the most important thing I do all year.

This is what it's like to say goodnight and mean goodbye.

but it would be nice to say It’s raining only on my head rather than I have a chemical imbalance in my brain or I just remembered that someone I love will die before I do.

I am not saying you will find the meaning of life in other people. I am saying that other people are the life to which you provide the meaning.

Now I just think about who else is kissing her. I can't breathe because he only kisses her once. He doesn't care if its perfect.

whatever you are feeling right now, there is a mathematical certainty that someone is feeling that exact thing. This is not to say you aren’t special. This is to say thank god you aren’t special.

I'm not going to tell you how to live your life, but maybe you should listen to your feet when they tell you to run the fuck away. Maybe you should get out of here, then get out some more.

I have been wondering, mostly, if love and sanity are the same thing. When I say I am in love I am also saying the world makes sense to me right now

Depression wasn’t an endless grey sky, it was no sky at all. I’ve got to go somewhere. I’ve got to go. It

You will remind yourself, she will remind you, you will remind each other, that this is for the best, that you are physically incapable of loving one another,

So now we're here and we are not dead, and Mom, what's more punk rock than living despite all that which has tried to make you not?

I will whisper your name From the cracks in the canyon rocks And you will know that this is heaven, Knowing that someone will always remember Your irises and where you hid your love Letters and why you could never speak In anything but short sentences.

I will have fun like my life depends on it cause it does.

I saw the future, I did, and in it I was alive.

I wanna thank you for making all the love songs mean something again

I think that the genes for being an artist and mentally ill aren’t just related, they are the same gene, but try telling that to a bill collector. We

The future is a blue sky and a full tank of gas.

You no longer think of suicide as a house you will build one day.

god bless the shape your head leaves in my pillow; god bless your insatiable hair; god bless you, though the hour is late, for you have come to me at last.

The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.

I think a lot about killing myself, not like a point on a map but rather like a glowing exit sign at a show that’s never been quite bad enough to make me want to leave. See, when I’m up I don’t kill myself because, holy shit, there’s so much left to do. When I’m down I don’t kill myself because then the sadness would be over, and the sadness is my old paint under the new. The sadness is the house fire or the broken shoulder: I’d still be me without it but I’d be so boring.

I am just carbon and bad timing

I wanna go away until I'm gone. It takes so much less energy to not exist than it does to exist and get burned.

I am not helping because I have already assumed so much, and I would rather let her suffer than be wrong.

She imagines me full of dead things, re-consuming that which I am trying to grow out of.

my house only felt like a home underwater, in floods; my father was an astronaut because to me stars or the distant flashing of satellites seemed closer than wherever he was; when

When the winds are picking up, when the sea around you turns from blue to grey, when the sky grows veins of light before you, let your arms become sails. Keep the lighthouse at your back.

Maybe things happen for a reason but that reason is stupid... I am a flat tire and you are a pothole full of lug nuts. I am a pile of bricks and you are holding a sledgehammer, which is to say I would not exist without you.

I think a lot about killing myself, not like a point on a map but rather like a glowing exit sign at a show that’s never been quite bad enough to make me want to leave.

since I’m still here, I have to act as though I meant to be here. Once it snowed, and it wasn’t that I felt great, because I felt awful, but awful is better than nothing. Depression wasn’t an endless grey sky, it was no sky at all. I’ve got to go somewhere. I’ve

Flight is just a fall that never reaches the ground.

Tomorrow is a lease I have to sign every morning.

Hope is a thing I drag out of storage when I am done thinking; hope answers my phone; hope breaks my furniture and helps me rebuild before the next party; hope turns into more hope unless it does not in which case it turns into more or less less than what I had hoped for; hope sinks; hope drinks with me and against me; hope is my ride home; hope is asleep, I'm asleep, dear god, I can't stop sleeping.

It’s unfortunate that your offspring make people wish for a dystopian future in which euthanasia is a universally beloved form of birth control, but when elderly women literally everywhere are better parents than you, perhaps it’s time to hang up the baby-making spurs.

That parallel parking is like making love but more difficult and in public.

Kid, you'll be fine.

You will never be more wrong than the first time you say “I love you.” You will mean it, sure, but you’ll still be lying.

Happy people don't make history. Happy people make children, then die.

I can pinpoint the session that brought me back to the world. That session cost $75. $75 is two weeks of groceries. It's a month of bus fare. It's not even a school years worth of new shoes. It took weeks of $75 to get to the one saved my life. We both had parents that believed us when we said we weren't OK, but mine could afford to do something about it. I wonder how many kids like Joey wanted to die and were unlucky enough to actually pull it off. How many of those kids have someone who cared about them but also had to pay rent? I'm so lucky that right now i'm not describing Joey's funeral.

she loved me once, though it wasn't for very long, though it was distracted, though it shouldn't have happened, once, she loved me

I never cry at things outside of my head because they all seem so far away.

Imagine if fire extinguishers were full of snow. Imagine the fun we could have.

I have launched myself from tall places and hoped no one would catch me. I have ended relationships because suddenly I was also exposed, but isolation is not safety, it is death. If no one knows you're alive, you aren't.

When I’m down I don’t kill myself because then the sadness would be over, and the sadness is my old paint under the new. The sadness is the house fire or the broken shoulder: I’d still be me without it but I’d be so boring.

I think I am only still here because I was too scared to make the first cut

Marvel at how she, the patient gardener, the bringer of sleep, she who draws the bath and lights the candles, she who made you someone who could make himself into someone, she made you want to live more than anything else, and now she makes you want to leave the world because you have seen it.

The Future has been at war, but it's coming home so soon; the future is the map and the treasure; the future looks like a child in a cape; the future is just like gravity: everyone is slowly drifting toward everyone else. We are all going to be part of each other one day...

I have to tell you what's at stake here: when we were young, we were both in relationships that we thought would never end, not like I will love you even when it goes dark, more like It's so dark out there. How could you survive without me? People have taken so much from me that I don't know how I'm not gone.

I have been wondering, mostly, if love and sanity are the same thing. When I say I am in love I am also saying the world makes sense to me right now. I know that love is not the same as knowing everything, but because she is gone, because about her there are unknowns that will now remain unknowable, it is important to list what is mine to list: She likes hazelnut in her coffee; she is a better driver when the transmission is manual; though she couldn't name it, her favorite color is Bakelite seafoam green; she loved me once, though it wasn't for very long, though it was distracted, though it shouldn't have happened, one she loved me

Alex, since I'm still here, I have to act as though I meant to be here. Once it snowed, and it wasn't that I felt great, because I felt awful, but awful is better than nothing. Depression wasn't an endless grey sky, it was no sky at all. I've got to go somewhere. I've got to go.

How to kill yourself without hurting anyone. Don't.

I have been wondering, mostly, if love and sanity are the same thing. When I say I am in love I am also saying the world makes sense to me right now.

Yes, there is a place where someone loves you both before and after they learn what you are.

When I say / I am in love I am also saying the world / makes sense to me right now.

Love how you hate yourself sometimes, / because goddamn, at least there's still something / to hate.

maybe things do / happen for a reason but that reason is stupid.

Because she filled something in you / that's still full, even though / she's gone.

You told me once that you would break my heart. I asked you not to be such a goddamn cliché, but then you left me because part of you was still broken. You say some man pried open the cracks of you, dug holes where once there were none, so now you just cannot love me how I deserve, and darling, therein lies the problem: you can you can you can you can you can you can you can you can. Your reasons why are no good reasons why. We said we should not fall in love and then we showed each other our most quiet scars: my wrists, your upper thighs, and now you say this too easily: you say you cannot stay.

Humans always want something from you and he and I would just rather be together than apart, and I pulled him toward me, and he chitterred in the way that always meant he was wind coming in after the rain. His head fell forward, and there was so much less light in the room.

Hair is partially composed of cyanide, napalm is just gasoline and plastic, I am just carbon and bad timing.

Love how you hate yourself sometimes, because at least there's still something to hate.

flight is just a fall that never finds the ground.

The way / your life is sharper once it's gone.

I am telling you this because I love you, and if anyone should hurt you, it should be me.

Love how you hate yourself sometimes, because at least there's still something to hate. I know how easy it is to think and keep thinking until you're the last person left on earth. Until the entire world becomes no larger than the space between your bed and the light switch. But, I hear the world is ending soon. When we go, and we're all going to go, I will be part of it.

Things that I Hope Are True about Heaven That the radio always plays what would have been your favorite songs. That there's always coffee if you want it. That you're there. That it's real.

When we call each other halfway / across the country, we are paying / for the illusion that space does not exist. / We are paying to pretend / that one day, if we reach hard enough, / we will touch each other.

This is what it's like to buy the wrong kind of flowers. This is what it's like to read your lover's mail and find they are doing nothing wrong. Have you ever set a field on fire and called it a birthday candle? Have you ever punished a dog because you trained it wrong? This is what it's like to build a wall in your living room.

I realize that you have four children, all of whom are particularly strong-willed, and that you're tired, and that you might not get the support you need from your wife, but dude, your kids are being dicks to each other loudly within earshot of me, and I'm gonna throw them in this koi pond. Did you know that koi are predatory? They're not, but I am starter than you, so let's pretend I'm right.

When my mother dies, I will lead her like a dog into the space between our walls, which is just like the space between here and always, the king and the kingdom. I will lead her by the hand if she be blind, and I will wag my tail against her knees if she be afraid, and I will leave her at the gate. Life on earth will, in some ways, be easier. I will not have to return her phone calls. I will not have to feel guilty when I want to hear no more, no more about the divorce. I won’t cry though I will want to cry though I will hate myself for not crying. When my mother dies, if I am still alive, I will slouch on my knees as though in prayer, I will write one or two poems, and I will no longer think of her.

Isolation is not safety, it is death. If no one knows you're alive, you aren't.

The poem needs to speak for itself, and whatever you don’t like, you can change. Whatever you change, that will speak for itself too. The poem has to have a life of its own without you telling me what that life is.

I think that the genes for being an artist and mentally ill aren’t just related, they are the same gene, but try telling that to a bill collector

But let’s not forget about the terrible St Paul drivers. They’re so bad that I don’t go out when it’s raining. I don’t go out anyway, but that’s because of the anxiety. The anxiety comes out when it is and isn’t snowing. All snow is missing its drivers. All drivers are missing a leg. All legs aren’t working right today. All appointments today are being missed. All beds, all beds today are full.

Hair is partially composed of cyanide. Napalm is just gasoline and plastic. I am just carbon and bad timing.

First: you say you feel nothing Then, your eyes start to agree with you Then one day, someone you love, probably, cries in front of you And your only thought is "when is dinner?

I'm so lucky we all lived through who we were to become who we are.

When my mother dies, I will lead her like a dog into the space between our walls which is just like the space between here and always, the king and the kingdom. I will lead her by the hand if she be blind and I will wag my tail against her knees if she be afraid. And I will leave her at the gate. Life on earth will in some ways be easier. I will not have to return her phone calls. I will not have to feel guilty when I want to hear no more, no more about the divorce. I won't cry though I will want to cry, though I will hate myself for not crying. When my mother dies if I am still alive, I will slouch on my knees as though in prayer. I will write one or two poems. Then I will no longer think of her.

So, you wanna be unhappy. You probably think you need to be in pain to be an interesting person and artist, and you're right. People who care about you will tell you you don't need to suffer to be important, but just remember: musicians are always most popular the day after they die. So, are you ready to matter to someone?

It was the summer I finally left the woman I hated. No, too much, I didn't hate her. When you feel nothing for someone long enough, it starts to seem like hate.

When I was little I broke both my ankles jumping off a roof because I was sure a cape would enable me to fly. My parents attributed this to my strong imagination. Last year my therapist called it a delusion. I fail to see the difference.

For months, maybe years, everytime you see her you will want to kiss her. When you do you will expect pain to come, like the old dog you could never quite put down, but there will be none. You will remind yourself, she will remind you, you will remind each other that this is for the best. That you are physically incapable of loving one another. And in those moments you will be lying. Your heart screaming, "I can! I can! I can!" But you will stay silent because of her, because she asked for this, because she filled something in you thats still full even though she's gone.

When she said she loved me her mouth was a straight line. She told me that I was taking up too much of her time. She told me that she shouldn't have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but... How can it be a mistake that I don't have to wash my hands after I touched her? Love is not a mistake, and it's killing me that she can run away from this and I just can't. I can't go out and find someone new because I always think of her. Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin. And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on.