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annamarija 's review for:
Snowflake
by Louise Nealon
It’s not ideal but I felt it and I think that’s all that matters. I felt the loneliness and sorrow and intense yearning for validation. They say it’s a book about coming of age and about a girl in a big city and it is but it’s about so, so much more. I wrote it down below but, if you don’t want to read it all, my opinion is short: it’s worth to give it a chance and to find there all of the little pieces of ourselves in our worst moments when we’re lost on the edge of adulthood and desperately want to stay children.
- We're all lonely. Loneliness is something we hold on tightly, because we don't have the ability to understand each other even if we're so, so similar.
- We desperataly seek minutes and moments, ripping them from reality in hope they replace the constancy of intimacy.
- We float alone, in the bubble of fear which we can't break through, and which pushes us away from looking at ourselves in true light. Loneliness becomes circle.
- We're not able to enjoy ourselves. We require perfection living with blurry, ideal image of others, that we create in our own heads.
- We yearn for love. We yearn so, so much.
- We love more than we feel loved and, with time, we become statues, just to break under the weigh of responsibility, that we put on our shoulders.
- We feel tricked - the world, suddenly and unexpectedly becomes cold and each one of us has to bear it by themselves. We imagine the life we don't have, but we would like to have, just to crawl on the bathroom tiles and cry out our pity before ourselves.
- Every life is a story.
- We're all lonely. Loneliness is something we hold on tightly, because we don't have the ability to understand each other even if we're so, so similar.
- We desperataly seek minutes and moments, ripping them from reality in hope they replace the constancy of intimacy.
- We float alone, in the bubble of fear which we can't break through, and which pushes us away from looking at ourselves in true light. Loneliness becomes circle.
- We're not able to enjoy ourselves. We require perfection living with blurry, ideal image of others, that we create in our own heads.
- We yearn for love. We yearn so, so much.
- We love more than we feel loved and, with time, we become statues, just to break under the weigh of responsibility, that we put on our shoulders.
- We feel tricked - the world, suddenly and unexpectedly becomes cold and each one of us has to bear it by themselves. We imagine the life we don't have, but we would like to have, just to crawl on the bathroom tiles and cry out our pity before ourselves.
- Every life is a story.