I'm really good at being the person that other people need me to be; at saying exactly what is needed or expected, or shaping my face into the form that is required for the mood of the conversation. But there are times when the truth slips from my lips in strong rivulets, feeling hot and flowing like blood or something vital, needing to find it's place in the world and come out from that dark place I've been keeping it locked up in. My mouth moves of its own accord and I don't need to think or plan as I speak, I just urge it forward and it comes, streaming forth from somewhere inside me until there is nothing else left to say.
Pure and simple, that is exactly what joy is. Pure, unadulterated happiness.
There once was a time, many days ago, when I could not tell you the last time my heart felt so happy it could burst. The last time my spirit felt as light and as free as the sunlight and the wind. But ask me now, I can tell you, and a smile would appear readily on my lips. I am happy now. I was happy then, last week; the week I spent at my grandparents' house. I sat in the kitchen, at a small wooden kitchen table, in a house that I had thoroughly known since my childhood, and walked through halls that my little feet had once stamped through.
To be with those who you love, and who love you back is a blessed, blessed thing.
There are times for words, and there are times when words should come after.
In moments when you are filled with emotion, you often find yourself sorting through words in your brain, trying to frame the real time event into a story. Maybe this helps you to digest the events unfolding, or maybe it just helps you to separate yourself from them, as if the pain or uncertainty in these moments are far too raw, too fresh, to be consumed without this prior preparation. But there are times for words, and there are times when words should come after.
In that moment when you inexplicably break down into tears that cannot be managed or hidden, but instead turn into body-wracking sobs, and you are enfolded into a lovely pair of warm, solid arms, there is no room for words. So no one asks you why you are crying, no one asks you to explain and process the permeating emotion flowing through your core; they let you feel. Because there is a time for words, and there is a time when words should come after.
That is love. And that is respect. It is respect for another person's right to experience and sift through their pain in silence, in their own time, and in their own way, without demanding an explanation. It is the willingness to be their comforter, without encroaching on their right to grieve.
I haven't been here a lot lately. I'd like to say I've been busy, and lately that's been true, but I have just had other things on my mind. My posts have been short and sweet, although I have written longer things, and just never published them....
Just wanted to share this quote that I found today that I think I love.
I have an assignment due in 4 hours, a presentation to prepare for, and another assignment to start. So I've gotta get cracking, and stop procrastinating, like I always have to do.
These feelings are no more than residue that time will clear away;
I cannot make them go.
I must simply keep them to myself and wait for them to pass.
That is all.
High school taught me how to be afraid. It taught me that friendship can be transient, that sometimes people can walk out of your life just as easily as they walk in. High school taught me how to be alone.
High school taught me how to walk with my head held high when my world was crumbling apart. To walk with a swing in my step that told others, "I don't need you."
High school taught me to be afraid of judgement. To change myself just enough to avoid the worst criticism. To worry about what others would think of my dress, my manner, my face, my smile. To watch the faces of others to come to a conclusion about myself. High school told me I was ugly.
High school taught me that I wasn't the best in my field. That I couldn't run the fastest or the longest. That I couldn't be the most liked, or the one with the most potential, or the smartest or the sharpest, or the best dressed. High school told me that I was at the bottom of the food chain, and that there was no changing it.
Some things are a matter of perspective. Because now that I'm older I see that everything I went through, tough though it may have been, was only a phase. An era. A period of growth. Now I see that not every lesson held truth; not every lesson was sound. But each and every lesson was valuable.
Because the lessons I learned in high school were teaching me how to value the good days. To value the wonderful and amazing people who walk into my life each and every day. They taught me to be considerate of others. To not judge a book by its cover. To love others because I don't know what they're going through and because everyone needs a little more love in their lives.
High school taught me that bad days don't last. That those Big n' Bad days that say that there is no future--that there is nothing better than this--are lying. Because after the bad days come the wonderful days. The days that make you so happy you feel like crying and laughing at the same time.
High school taught me that it's ok to be broken. It's ok to cry. It's ok not to always be strong and unbreakable.
High school taught me that my perception of myself is not always accurate. That there is beauty in me, even when I can't see it, even when no one else does. It taught me that I shouldn't change for anyone or pretend to be someone I'm not.
I am still not perfect. Some days I don't feel pretty. Some days I don't feel confident. Some days I fake a smile and hope to fool the world. Sometimes I don't feel smart or good at anything.
On these days, I whisper myself: I am beautiful. I am strong. I am smart. I have more potential than I know, than I can imagine. Just breathe. Breathe. Breathe. It's ok. There is beauty after pain. Everything's gonna be alright.
I've been thinking. I've recently realized that I'm a very naive person. Or maybe just old-fashioned. I don't want to play these games of double entendres and double talk, I want to talk heart-to-heart without having an agenda in mind. I want to be with someone who wants to talk to me just for the sake of talking to me.
It seems that I'm getting caught up in these conversations that are like a race to find compatibility, when all I really want is to find a friend.
You ask me over and over, no matter what I said the last time we spoke. But I'm not willing to give me away to someone who's not going to handle anything with care. You are a wild wind, and only I know how fragile I am.
I do not want to be tolerated. I want to be loved.
Is it selfish of me to want more than just a future of compatibility and tolerance? Can't I imagine? Can't I dream? Why can't I wish for someone who turns my world upside down and makes me believe in a love I'd never dreamed existed?
Girl In White Dress by: desEXign
Life is messy. Life is not the neat, contained bundles of feeling and carefully scripted plot that you see in a movie theater. Life is painful and it hurts, but it’s also poignant and it's beautiful. So beautiful. It connects and intersects us to one another in ways we can’t fully understand and mostly don’t notice.
Life is a roller-coaster. Each day is different; life can throw surprises at you left and right. Just when we think we’ve got it all figured out, life slips a new feeling or a new experience out of it’s sleeve and whips it at you with a flurry. Or maybe it breaks it to you gently, the way the spring breaks through the cracks of winter, pushing past the cold and melting the ice and filling the tree branches with golden shards of light and warmth. It can light you up and make you so grateful that you never despaired of life, and the next, it can cut you up inside, leaving you lonely and bare and wanting nothing more than to run away.
You never truly know what each next day will bring. Some days I look into the mirror, and wonder at that smiling face I see, wonder at a new discovery made, wonder that a bad day ended in a smile...and the next day, I look at the same face and strain to see value and beauty...and pray that somehow I would know what I am meant for.
Life is a classroom. Where one learns to appreciate the value in oneself, to not base those understandings on what one thinks others think about them. Its about learning to be humble, and selfless, to see that others are hurting, and you can’t do anything about your own hurts, but you can help them in little ways. Where you learn how to become the world to one person who needs you. Who keeps pushing you away in every way they know how but still needs you.
Life is meant to be lived. Don't you dare let yours slip away. You get one chance at this. Grab each day by the coattails and live, live, live.
Life is pain. Don't be afraid o
I don't know what I want to become. I don't know where my niche is in life, in society, in this world. All I know about my future is that I want to be married and have children sometime before I turn 30.
I'd probably not mention it, though, if someone asked me what I want to do with my life in the next five years, or the next ten. I'd say that I hope to finish school, to find a good job, get my own place, maybe move somewhere warm and sunny. But I wouldn't mention the children I dream of having one day, or the husband I hope one day to love.
I'm the kind of person who easily will say, "I don't need to get married" or,"I'm never getting married". Mostly because I'm not open with the things that matter most to me. Usually.
But sometimes, when you fight, I believe those words I say.
Is this what marriage is like? I think to myself. Or, I'm never getting married if this is what it's like.
I see the two people I've known all my life brush past each other in the hallway by the kitchen, not looking at each other, each angry at the other, one on his way out the door. I know the way this goes. I've seen this scene enough times to know what comes next.
And I can't help but remembering those few memories I have of those same two people when I was younger, and they were still in love. And I look at their faces and I remember the smiling faces in photographs and I think, these people used to be in love.
I know that these fights don't always last, but I never see you make up. I only see that things slowly simmer down and return to normal. I rarely see those moments that show me that you love each other--really love each other.
When you fight, I wonder if I should ever marry, if I should ever risk my heart with someone if this is what it's like.
I've been feeling a sense of impending doom lately. Anxiety. Condemnation. I've been pushing it out of my mind by the sheer strength of my will, burying beneath entertainment, distractions, light and bantering conversations with family.
I've felt this way before, but stronger and more overpowering. I turned to God to help me, and He did...but sometimes I'm so stupidly stubborn.
This time I tell God I can't deal with this; that I don't want to think. I tell Him that I'm so stupid, and I can't do anything right, that I'm a failure and I'll never make it anyway.
I'm not perfect. I'm so far from perfect. The mistakes I've made in my life, over and over and over again, are far too many to count. I'm so far from being anything resembling good, despite what everyone around me sees and may think about me. Sometimes I feel unforgivable, that I've done things that are so wrong that it's impossible for me to make it right.
And still, God keeps calling me in all these little ways, never shouting, never forcing me, but in a quiet and still way, in the voice of One who knows the meaning of patience, persistence and devotion so much better than I do. He calls in the quiet moments, though they be brief and rare. In these moments, a verse or an encouraging thought comes to mind, or--like last night--I might look out of my window and see the moon, hung there by the hand of God and swung into orbit by His will and become filled with hope and longing forgetting for a minute about my inadequacy and focusing instead on His majesty.
In these moments I feel God's love and tell Him that I love Him, because I do, but somehow, out of the infinite depths of my stupidity, I turn and wander away like some dumb sheep grazing away from the watchful hand of its shepherd, wandering towards a crevice unseen, never noticing the danger until it falls, never realizing how far it has gone until it is scared and frustrated and caught on unstable ground, unable to do anything but bleat and cry for help until it comes. When I reach that point, I'm finally willing to acknowledge that I'm not the smartest one in this whole operation, that God should be the one in control. But I'm prone to making mistakes over and over again....
I was going to end tonight again ignoring God's voice, and walking further away from what I know to be good, but I came across this song, and I just started to cry.
It says everything I was feeling, and just reminded me that all is not lost, hope is not lost. God is here, will always be here for me, will always love me, no matter where I am in my life, no matter how unforgivable I feel, no matter how lost I am. God is here, He is in control, and He loves me, more than I am able to fathom.
How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!
If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with thee.