Story Of My Life.

And I hate that you feature so strongly in the story of my life when you are irrelevant now. Like a lead actor that dies early on, but the plot revolves around him. And you thought you were the centre of the universe, or rather the universe itself. You are neither. You are the big bang. And I evolved from you.

There Is Light

Her head is cloudy with thoughts cramming into each other, different voices fighting to be heard. Which should she believe? The fear is the easiest to give in to. Stick to what you know, what you love. What will you do otherwise? Can you breathe? Can you move? And although those things are still possible they are done with so much more effort. Its funny how performing the simplest of tasks can feel like an eternity when you have this weight in your chest. The sweating of palms and racing of hearts is worst. Waiting for something all the time, not knowing what it is. And then what? What happens now? It is so difficult to move on when you have given everything you have. Although at the same time its easier because you know there is nothing more you could have done. Life is wonderful after awhile. Just wait and see. There is a whole other world out there. One that is all the more wonderful after your absence from it. There are so many things out there. How did she shut all the doors around herself? Thankyou for opening them back up when you left. There is so much more out there. So much light pouring in, she needs to squint to see her future.

Don't Be Afraid.

Every single cell in my body is different now than it was 10 years ago. I recycled myself.

Forebode.

I woke up today with a good feeling about the world. The beach can do that to you. in a place of such natural beauty, what can you find to be unhappy about? Eyes closed, head back, listening to the waves and the wisdom they hush hush upon your shores. Infinite, untouchable. The definition of permanence. But the problem with absolutely perfect summer days is that they are bulls eyes for something to go outright wrong.

I Know You Better Than You Know Yourself, They Said.

And people too often make accusations, question your character with only fragments of proof. And people too often believe, and begin to question themselves, wondering which of these fragments are true. I have been told many times what I am, and what I am not. I have believed too often, doubtful of myself, succumbing to you, when I should have known the truth. You can never know another person in the ways you assume you can. Actions and words are not always, if ever, carried out under the guise of complete awareness or understanding. What appears irrational to you may tumble very genuinely, completely rational, from those parts of my brain you cannot see-through. It makes perfect sense to me. It doesn’t need to, to you.

Hope.

Source: postsecret.com

False Beliefs

Fairytales make us believe that love is all encompassing, forever forgiving. Sacrifice and love are supposedly linked. So we bow and we break. We give, forgetting to take. And we laugh when we shouldn't, and think that we'll die, when we won't. Fairytales make us believe that we are born only half. So we spend our time looking for the part, that which will make us whole. Succeeding only in reaching the frustration of someone who's spent years working on a puzzle, reaching the last piece, only unable to find it. But that is not what love is. That kind of love will only ever leave you empty. That last piece will never suffice. You be the sun, I' ll be the moon. I am beautiful, with or without you.