‘A Room With A View’ By E. M. Forster (published In 1908)

I struggle with being socially anxious, shy and somewhat awkward and i've been told multiple times the first impression people get of me is being cold or mean eventho i'm not a rude person at all. I don't want to give that impression and i've been trying to be more chatty and extroverted. What can I do to come accross more kind and gentle? That's honestly the type of energy I want to have. I envy people with such inviting aura and vibes about them which I don't seem to have.

It’s okay to be reserved, but you should still work on your social skills.

Your facial expressions are important. When people say to smile more often, they don’t mean to stay like 😁😊 but more like 🙂. Think of nice or funny things to keep a sweet expression on your face. Smile from your eyes. “Smile”

Body language is everything. If you cross your arms often for instance, it can be seen as you being closed off and cold. Have open body language. Avoid being a wall flower and hiding in corners.

How are you with small talk? Brush up on social scripts, that’s all it is really is. Say hi to strangers when you pass by (use discernment)

Use eye contact and good posture. Don’t hang your head.

Try to get rid of your paranoia. Being self conscious is what tends to kill charisma.

Stay off of your phone, instead people watch or look at the scenery.

How do you fall back in love with life?

clean your room.  clean space, uncluttered space, space that doesn’t have miasma clinging to it can work wonders.  clean the dishes.  sweep.  take out the trash.  peel the clothes off the floor and wash them, and then actually fold/hang them.  take a long shower.  scrub behind your knees.  brush your teeth.  (this can be utterly exhausting, but try to get it done in a day, if you can.  the end result is worth it.)

pull out your notebook.  it doesn’t need to be a new notebook, but preferably one that you don’t usually write in, or that you haven’t touched in a while.  fuck moleskins.  the yellow legal pad will work fine.  sit in your room, or in the park, or in the library, and write a list.  count clouds.  describe all the colors that you see, and note patterns that arise.  sketch the cracks in the walls.  note the shape light makes when it enters a space.  talk about what the air tastes like, smells like.  what sounds are there?  even the white nose, break that down: air planes, fans, cicadas, anything.  remind yourself that you are sitting in the middle of a space brimming with detail.  remind yourself that you are not in nothingness and emptiness.  your world is fathomless.  it has potential.

drink cold water and try to eat something that isn’t processed.  it does not need to be fancy.  buy yourself an apple with the change between your couch cushions.  eat it outside.  if you’re someone who walks, walk somewhere afterwards, just to stretch your legs.  take your fucking meds.  remember that its a good thing that you are inside your body.  your body is a fantastic and endlessly intricate machine, and even though society has smacked a bunch of poisonous ideas on it, that doesn’t change its inherent worth and splendor.  take care of it.

read a novel.  underline your favorite lines, and write phrases that twist your heart inside your chest on the back of your hand with an ink pen.  read a novel like it’s poetry.  read poetry, something decadent but unpretentious.  watch a movie you haven’t seen before.  if there are free art galleries near you, walk through one.  take your time.  let yourself bask.  if there are patterns in what makes your soul ache, write those patterns down – marbles arches or soot crumbling bricks or dandelions or descriptions of dresses or whatever it is, write them down.

your chosen family is important.  remember, they picked you as much as you picked them.  the love has no obligation.  it is given freely and it is given from a place of compassion.  you are not a burden.  if you need to breathe, take a minute by yourself and just exist, but remember to go back to your people.  when they need you, listen and be gracious.  always be gracious.  the universe sometimes remembers things like that.

listen to new music.  link jump on youtube or related artist jump on spotify or ask the chap beside you in the cafe what their favorite band is, and listen to that.  listen to something that you don’t usually listen to.  we tend to tie up a lot of memory with music.  we are falling in love again.  the soundtrack needs to be specific to that.  

allow yourself to indulge in romantics.  press flowers in old books.  play movies with subtitles and mouth the words.  dance in your room.  wear something that makes you feel good, even if you wouldn’t wear it in public.  write your chosen family letters, even if you hand deliver them.  write poetry, even awful poetry.  revel in its awfulness.  eat dark chocolate and when your chosen family want to go out, try to go out with them sometimes, even if its just to the market.  

“Shown here is Mary Shelley’s (1797-1851) working draft of the turning-point in Frankenstein – the moment when Frankenstein’s Creature comes to life.” (Read more here.)

The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1944–1947

Funny Face (1957)

Midsummer’s Eve: A Reverence to Roses - John Henry Lorimer

“if no art makes you feel anything, make your own art and feel something” is too raw of a line to have come from a jenna marbles video of her painting a rainbow/polka dot seahorse saying “it’s seahorse time” on a denim jacket

i know the mortifying ordeal of being known is real for too many of us, but consider this: someone saw you once and loved your hairstyle. someone loves your laugh, how you scrunch your nose when you find something funny. your birthday could be an old friend’s password. that one song you recommended to your crush a couple summers back could still be their favorite. you are in other people’s birthday party photos. someone could’ve fallen in love with you on public transportation. our lives intertwine beautifully and you, dear human, are a little piece of other people’s fond, lovely memories. part of the ordeal of being known implies the ordeal of being loved.