She was his rock. She was steady, unmoving, and unapologetically beautiful. She always stood up for those too afraid, beaten down, or uncomfortable to have a voice. She was the crack of thunder after the sky was streaked with light. She wore her confidence like a badge of honor, the sun gleaming off it to catch the eye of intrigued minds.
She never once asked for forgiveness for her abrasiveness. Never stating to the people around her that she was anything less than worthy, she knew what she had to offer. She could offer her love, support, and undying gratitude for the energy that others seemed to exude. Her soul was as beautiful as the illuminated clouds that surrounded the moon.
One man was all it took. Suddenly, she was no longer the crack of thunder. She was the lightening. She was all rage and no forgiveness. The anger building within her soon was released and if there were people in the way of her succeeding in the task that she was bred for, the consequences were deadly. She was created in the eye of something beautiful and was destroyed by an egocentric heart.
He looked at her with admiration. He knew of her beauty but not of her worth. He knew of her strength but not of her tolerance. He knew of her confidence but not of her stubborn determination to thrive without another’s restraints. She needed fuel to stoke her fire but he never loved her. She was just fuel for his ego.
The saying goes that you fall for someone. They call it falling because it’s that easy. It’s so simple to fall head over heels and then we find scrapes, bruises, and maybe even gashes and wonder where they came from.
By the fear of loss and rejection
By which direction seems less damaging
By feelings and words gone unspoken
By everyone who ever said they’d never leave
This kind of attraction is damaging to the most beautiful parts of us as we seek some sort of redemption in love with someone not made for us. We are beaten down and broken but we keep getting up to fight again and when the smoke fades and the dust settles there will be only you to pull yourself from the rubble.
Pick yourself up and dust yourself off because you’ve got more to live for than someone else’s pride and ego. Smile, child, for it is time to see the beauty within yourself.
There are so many different pieces to life. Life is made up of a multitude of choices, situations, and moments. Those things make us who we are and they create a character within us that we can’t deny.
The choices that we make in life lead us down a particular path. The path you choose could be that of least resistance or it could be the road that gets you stuck in the mud, tires spinning out of control. We should never regret those choices that get us stuck in the mud. They are there to teach a lesson and put us back on the route that we were meant to be on in the first place.
There are two different categories within the situations in our lives. There are situations that our choices have put us in and then there are situations that others have led us to but, ultimately, our choices are what put us in all situations. The lives that surround us will cause us to do some things that we may not have done otherwise but, in the end, it’s our decision.
And then there are moments. The most beautiful and heartfelt of life’s lessons. There are moments in time and space that we cannot deny are otherworldly. We get a sense of belonging and utter bliss and, for a single moment, we have an overwhelming feeling. Whatever that feeling may be depends on what the moment constitutes.
Some moments make us feel like we are no longer the biggest thing in life. Suddenly, there is so much more to life than “me”. It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff and seeing how insignificant each ant-sized car looks as it treks aimlessly to some dead end job. Other moments hold a feeling of peacefulness that we never fathomed could be possible. It’s standing in the middle of a field just as the sun starts to peek over the horizon and seeing the mist that wisps across the grass. My favorite of all moments is that moment where we are so encapsulated with love for someone that just looking in their eyes is all you could ever need (or so we think). It’s like we could swim in their irises because we can now see the depths of their soul and feel as if we are part of something beautiful.
Life has so many different colors and movements. The colors seem to blend together to create one wondrous image before our eyes. Aurora Borealis is a breathtaking sight and we are very quick to look at the sky and see the moving current of color but don’t look close enough to break down every individual hue.
This life is not meant to be simple and sometimes dissection is the only way to understand certain parts because, let’s be honest, no one will ever really be able to say what the true meaning of life is.
When she met him he picked her up and pulled her close. He looked at her as if she were some ethereal figure longing to be seen, even if only for a moment. The man before her was somebody she never thought she’d meet, stable yet vulnerable.
When she touched him she no longer felt alone. Someone was finally there to make her feel as though she had someone to stand beside her as she tried to pull herself up off the ground. When she touched him something inside her evolved and she wondered why she had never seen herself so strong before.
When she loved him he starved all the fears that she had held close to her for so long. He helped her feel beautiful. He smiled when her eyes danced to the beat of the music that reminded her so much of her love for him. His love was passion and pain.
When he left she felt his words cut like daggers in her chest. He twisted the knife and watched as she gasped for air. He never once looked back at the pieces that he left scattered on the ground. He slammed all the doors in her face and when he left, there was nothing left in his place.
They are wrong about you.
“She deserves better than you”
“”You’ll never be able to give her what she needs”
“You don’t deserve her love”
“You’re just an addict”
The committee is lying to you and if you give in, you will never know. You will never know a love like hers. Let her show you what she has to offer and she will give you the same in return. Let your heart love her,
Not the committee.
I lay alone in silence
Consumed by the darkness
I sometimes feel inspired
to pour my soul on the paper
but to pick up the pen would mean
lifting the weight bearing down
on my shoulders
on my chest
on my heart
The darkness overtakes inspiration
It holds everything I love in a vice grip
It won’t let go
The darkness is frightening
It is my muse
My reason for writing
And writing is my purpose
Sometimes, when I get knocked down, it is very hard to get back up. When I end up on my knees because the weight of life’s hardships gets to hard to hold on my shoulders, it can seem like there is no way that I could be strong enough on my own to lift it and myself back up off the ground. Staying down is so much simpler. Staying down is much less tedious than figuring out how to hold the weight of life’s stresses, my own insecurities, my own self-loathing, my own sadness. All of these things add their own turmoil to my life and why would I want to have to carry those things with me anyways? So how do I lighten the load?
Well how do others do it? Others lighten their load with addictions, things to take their mind off of their own self-pity for a little while. My addiction is people. I have this addiction to having others around me to distract from my own hardships, my own problems, my own self-loathing behaviors. The people that I surround myself with seem to make the load a little lighter from time to time.
I am tired of hiding behind the facade that, not only I have created, but the facade that others have helped me create for myself. I hide behind a mask made of smiles and self-inflicted happiness. I tell people that I am happy and they believe me. I am happy when I’m around people that can help distract me from life’s ungrateful hands wrapped, unforgivably, around my throat. Then, all of a sudden, I am alone with my thoughts and there is no one there to save me. I’m back on my knees and my addiction creeps up on me again, promising relief, if I just give in.
I can stop myself at any time. I can end the cycle and just be okay with being alone. Right?
Alone is not my definition of a good life. I love to be around at least one other person at all times. I enjoy the company of others because the company in my own head just doesn’t cut it. The company in my head makes sure that I go over every possible outcome of the next two weeks. The company makes it difficult to enjoy being alone. The company writes my lines for me and, sometimes, it doesn’t do a very good job.
Being alone makes me want to do something that takes my mind off of being alone. Sleeping is the only thing that turns the lights out long enough for the company to quite and give me sweet relief (even if it is only for a couple of hours). I don’t like to be alone and the only thing I can think to do is leave. If I leave and throw myself into a new situation and get away from the people that help me put that mask on, then maybe, at some point, I can be happy with the company underneath, happy in my own company.
Maybe, someday, I will be able to, honestly, say that my happiness was self-inflicted.
Love is not kind. Love is not forgiving or subtle. Love is comfort and then chaos. Love is rigid and also tender. Love is pleasure and then unrelenting pain. Love is genuine and, at other times, deceiving. Love is a beautifully disastrous oxymoron sheathed in pastels and paper hearts.
I don’t think you will ever understand the way that I love you. I can try my hardest to explain:
I love you in the way that the sun loves the moon. She dies every night just so that the moon can rise. She sets every evening but she always rises at dawn. Nothing can change that. The sun is the sun and the moon is the moon. I refuse to change me for you but I would go around the world if it meant us being together again.
I love you in the way that the moon loves his stars. He is always there for them. He must be very unhappy but he continues on. Stars leave his side every night. They fall right out of the sky and he has to watch the whole thing happen. He continues to watch this because he knows that the sight, although devastating, is beautiful to us here on Earth. I am willing to sacrifice, for you, certain things in my life.
I love you in the way that the waves love the shore. The waves come through just to meet with the shore and then retreat once again. They retreat because lost items must be washed up on shore. They retreat because the shore needs to breathe. The waves come in strong with anticipation for the shore’s warm sand and retreat just to do it all over again. I would do that all for you. I would spend time away if it meant we could spend time together.
I love the parts of you that others hate because they make you unique. The sun and moon work so well together even though they have never touched. The moon loves the stars even though the stars shine brighter and are held to a higher importance more times than not. The waves love the shore even though when they crash down the pain seems almost unbearable. The pain of not having your second half can be worse than the pain that you feel when you are with them.
I love you in the way that I stayed with you for so long even though I hurt myself in the process. I must now learn to live without my second half because I have realized that “me” can come before “we”. I must learn to adjust to being alone and taking the time to focus on myself. I didn’t get to do those things before and now I get to breathe. I no longer have to feel the pain of the burning rope as I try to hold tight. I no longer have to flail in the water trying to stay afloat.
I get to be beautiful and strong and I get to feel more alive than I have in a while.
I get to be “me” not “we”.
I hope you told them. I hope you explained your poor choices. Did you own up to your mistakes?
I really want to believe that you would have the decency to do just that. But, for some reason, I can’t believe that you would want people to know what kind of person you really are. I could call you a coward. I could say that you never cared. I could try and explain to them who “daddy” is to me. But would they understand? Would they listen? Have you painted a different picture for yourself?
I bet you have. Well, painted a different picture anyway. I’m sure you haven’t told them. Because, why would you? They love you so much. Why would you want to ruin such a good thing by being honest?
Why wouldn’t you tell them? Don’t they deserve to know? They deserve to live an honest life. Well, they are. To the best of their ability anyway. If they don’t know, then their life is still honest but your’s is one big lie. You may claim three of them but you don’t claim me.
With them, you have painted this pretty little picture. I am so glad that you find pride in their accomplishments. I am so glad that, to your friends, they are “Oh! So beautiful!”. Everyone deserves to know that their “daddy” is proud of them. I’m glad they have that. I say that I could tell them what you’re really like to me, but I don’t know if I could show them the horror that I see. Why would I do that to such beautiful people. They’ve never done anything to deserve that. But, then again, I didn’t think I had done anything wrong either.
This begs the question: “Was it something I did”? NO! It’s not. You’re just one of those people in life that wants what they want, when they want it. I had nothing to do with it. And, for a while, I just figured, “Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for him”. “Maybe he needed to live his life first”. But wait… They are older than me.
You claimed them but you wouldn’t claim me. What was it that scared you away? Was it fear of commitment or was it some strange fear that I might have been the best thing that ever happened in your life? Some meaningless child that could, somehow, make you care less for yourself and more for someone else. That would scare me too. I guess what I am saying, is that I wouldn’t be so selfish as to walk away from something that I had helped to create. You are a coward.
I hope you told them. I didn’t want to be the one to flip their worlds upside down. So I really hope that you are the one that told them before I had the chance to. But I keep giving you all this credit. I keep telling myself that , maybe, by some chance, you actually told them about your errs in judgement. Would you really be the one to announce, without someone first questioning you, that you abandoned one and kept three. Maybe you did tell them and just explained it in such a way that you have continued to manipulate those closest to you. If that’s the case, then congratulations! You have officially hit a new low.
I really hope you told them and you were honest about your mistakes. I hope you regret it every day of your life. I hope it eats at you. I hope when you think of me, I haunt every thought that crosses your mind. That much, you deserve.
I hope you told them. But did you? Did you ever think to tell the precious “little ones” that they have a sister? That you abandoned your third child? That you, then, went and took care of someone else’s daughter as if she were your own?
Did you care to tell them?
Are you in a relationship and feel like you are constantly saying to people, “Oh yeah! We could spend the whole day apart, not talk or text, and we are still perfectly fine”? I feel that way too and I say this exact line to people all the time. But if I am being honest with myself, it is actually really hard to go the whole day without seeing or talking to him.
People say that when you’re living with someone things start to change and you can then spend time away from them and still come home and be around each other. That’s great but when I come home and my person isn’t there it’s hard to not feel that little twinge of hurt. It is kind of like some sort of separation anxiety.
I know that I give this weird look to people who say that they run everything by their significant other before doing anything but on some level I understand it. It actually gives you some reason to talk to your person before going on your way. I get out of work and call him just to let him know that I am on my way home. That is a normalcy for me and, for some reason, I get a little sad and, maybe even lost, when I see a text when I get out of work that says, “I won’t be there when you get home. I’m out with [a friend]”.
Maybe I don’t like change or maybe I actually have some sort of separation anxiety in a way. Some days I just want everything to be excessively simple. But for me? Nothing is ever simple. I don’t know if it is me or if everyone else makes things difficult. Maybe it is just me. My insecurities, my doubts, my fears, and my thoughts.
Well… Everyone always said I had to be the center of attention, so maybe they were right.
They say when a door closes there is a window waiting to be opened. Do we wait for that window to open or do we open them ourselves and smell the crisp morning air? I’d say a little of both. When a door closes it means you’re not meant to go that way anymore. When that door closes, that path is then blocked off and we must find another way to go. That’s when the window comes in to play. Open the window for yourself. You cannot spend your entire life waiting for it to open on it’s own. Just create the path for yourself. Not a lot of people want to admit that they create their own world, their own life, their own… destiny I guess.
Open the window and feel the breeze. Don’t let the door closing bring down your spirits. The window probably hold more opportunity anyways. Jump out of the window and find what the world holds for you. You have to define your own life. Whatever you believe is what you will receive. Take the path that you want in life. You do not have anyone to blame for your shitty path in life but yourself. You create your own reality. It is completely up to you. Don’t let yourself down.
There isn’t too much that I can say about windows honestly. This post is me trying to write once a day to strengthen my writing muscles. Hopefully I can write once a day or at least once a week and write something that isn’t so cheesy, sappy, or cliche.