Alice V.L.'s Blog, page 4

Love Someone Exactly As They Are – Before It’s Too Late

She stood quietly on the front porch with a cup of coffee in her hands. She silently watched him leave for work, just as she had done on so many mornings before. She smiled when she realized how the years had passed them by, and how gracefully he had aged. While she gazed motionlessly at him, she suddenly remembered the man he was when she first met him. She was instantly overcome by an urge to call him back, and tell him that if she could go back to the day they had first met, she would tell him that he never needed to change and that she wished he had stayed exactly the same. Instead, she sat down on an empty chair on her front porch and watched him climb into his car. She thought back to a time when life had not yet begun to dictate its rules and enforce what it deems to be acceptable conduct upon them.

They were once so young, so carefree and wonderfully reckless. She smiled again, when she evoked the beginning of their relationship. Even though they had lived in separate cities, he would make that long trip every Friday without fail, just to see her. Back then, she never quite understood the large sacrifices he had made, just to spend a short weekend with her. She suddenly wished she did. She thought back to the day that his motorcycle broke down on his way to see her, and that he had walked almost a hundred miles in the rain just to reach her. She never really fathomed how far that was then, or for how long he had walked that day. They had fun, they laughed, they joked, they danced, they talked, they loved, and they were happy. Blissfully happy with not a care in the world. She loved everything about him. She loved the way excitement would change his voice and she adored his bashful giggle that would appear from time to time. It was easy to miss, but hard to ignore. She loved how the little things were so significant to him and how the silliest story would make him laugh from the pit of his stomach. She loved how he would repeat something on television they had both just watched moments before, because he was afraid that she would miss out on a chance to laugh. They didn’t care much about uncapped toothpaste or wet bathroom towels on the floor. They didn’t care much for an empty laundry basket or a dozen outfits that lay scattered on the bed. They didn’t care much for shoes on the ground or socks next to the laundry basket. They were happy. They were young. They were too busy loving one another.

Then slowly and without intending to, it all changed. Without noticing it, she changed. And without meaning to, she tried to change him. They began to set goals and they began to carve out their future and build their home. The sooner they had reached their initial goals, the more goals they would set and the harder they would work. Their hours apart became longer, and their focus began to change from “them” to “things.” They had begun to accidentally embark upon a life outside of their “us.” The laundry baskets were empty, the dishes were washed and packed away. Clothes were neatly hung, and shoes were tidily arranged in their fancy closets. She began to harass him about the little things, the little irritations and when they turned into the big things, he became silent and stopped laughing from his gut. She began to yell, rather than to speak. He would turn away from her, rather than to protest against her. The flowers he brought her were no longer as beautiful as before; it was only when he stopped bringing them that she realized how she had stolen his willingness to bring beauty into her life. She had stolen his joy. She had stolen his enthusiasm to make her laugh and see her happy. She had taken his freedom away by berating him for his little mistakes. For the little things she wished he had done better. Like, putting the cap back on the toothpaste and tossing his dirty clothes into the laundry basket. Like, rinsing the bath afterwards and placing his coffee mug in the dishwasher. She had stolen his ability to love her, and she had stolen his right to defend himself against her. She had silenced him. She would be angry with him for waking her up during the night, because he lay too close to her … smothering her.

When all their goals were reached; when he had finally given her all that she had ever wanted, she was frightened to realize that she was not happy. He was no longer happy. She could not quite remember when it was that he had lost his spark. She could not quite remember when last it was that she had heard him laugh, truly laugh from deep within him. When was it that he last held her hand in his? What happened to their kitchen dances? She could not remember when the last time was, that she really looked at him just as she did when they had first met.

They had created a picture-perfect world and they had turned into almost perfect people. But, somewhere along the way, they had lost one another. As she sat on that front porch with an empty cup of coffee in her hands, she realized that she had never felt more alone in her entire life, than at that very moment. She missed him, the man he was when they had first met. The untidy, carefree and happy man. The man that would make her laugh just because he wanted to hear her giggle. The spontaneous man who would pull her back onto their bed and mess up her hair. She missed the “she” that would let him kiss off her lipstick even though she was five minutes late for work. She missed the man that would take the serving spoon from her hand, and dance around the kitchen with her. Because, he could and because, they could. Because, she let him. Because, their “we” was once the most important thing in the world. She missed the laundry on the floor. She missed the grease-soiled overalls he would soak in the outdoor basin, just because he did not want her to get her hands dirty. She missed falling over his shoes in the middle of the night, and more than anything, she longed to hear his shy giggle again. She missed waking up in the mornings with his arm around her. She missed him, the man he was when they first met.

She lowered her head, profoundly mortified by the woman she had turned into. She was sad that she had changed so enormously, and she was deeply remorseful that she had unintentionally transformed him too. Importance was always found in the little things, and it was in those things that they were happy, the things she wished they still had. She shook her head when she realized that he must have felt like a prisoner in his own home. When she heard him start his car, she ran down their pathway, frantic to reach him before he leaves. When he saw her, he hurriedly climbed out of his car, a stranger to the untaught expression on her face. She grabbed his hands, and squeezed them firmly. She told him to leave off the toothpaste cap, it was just a cap and that the next person can screw it back on, if they wanted to. She asked him to leave his laundry on the floor, it wouldn’t be so bad for her to pick it up on her way to the washer. It was on her way. She said that it was all right to leave his shoes next to the bed, it would be easier for him to find the next morning. She begged him to kiss her again just after she applied her make up, and she reminded him to pull her down on the bed only moments after she brushed her hair. She told him that she didn’t want perfect anymore, and she no longer wanted things. She said that she knew then that it was never what truly mattered, and that she just wishes she realized it sooner. She whispered into his ear, that they get up in the middle of the night and have ice-cream in their bed, just like they used to. She wanted to watch that movie that would make him laugh with him, just so that she could pretend it was funny and laugh out loud with him. She pleaded with him to take the day off as they head out in his car, and drive around aimlessly for the day, while they leave their phones at home. She then whispered for him to lay closer to her at night, she didn’t really need that much sleep.

His had always been perfect … for her. Life had no right to change them, and they no longer had to feel as though they needed to adapt. When he was himself, he was already the very best version he could ever be. That was the version she loved. That is the version she loves now. That will be the version she will always love. She loves him exactly the way he is.

 

A Little More Time And One More Chance.

This was a year my feet barely touched the ground. It was an overpoweringly exhausting, soul drenching and heart-gutting year. It was a year of extremes. There was no “in-the-middle” and there was no “even-playing-ground.” There were either really up or really, really down moments … no in-betweens. There were days I had to force myself out of bed, and then there were days when I couldn’t wait for the sun to rise, and begin a new day. But, more than anything, it was a year that has taught me so much. Again, I was shown how someone I have never met, can care so much more about me, than someone I have known all my life.  Again, I have not yet learnt to say no, but I have forgiven myself for that, because I have realized that that is who I am, and I like that about me.  I have learnt that loyalty is not an absolute. It is not instinctive, and it is not earned. For some, loyalty is a quality they will never have the privilege of owning. I have learnt that some forms of kindness are merely disguises for “a-later-favor”, and it comes with a very expensive price tag. I have learnt that friendships are fleeting and will only endure for as long as it is beneficial to one or both parties. I have learnt that dreams for some are nightmares for others, and I have learnt that most find gratification in others failures, instead of celebrating their successes. I have learnt that loving others does not mean they will inevitably love you back, and I have learnt that sympathetic words are used to blind some into susceptibility. I have learnt that things don’t always go as planned or as we want them to go, but I have learnt to re-adjust and re-group as swiftly as possible. I have learnt that things that go wrong cannot always be fixed and that perhaps, they should stay broken. I have realized that when things fall apart … chances are they could never be the way they were before.

I have learnt more of what matters and what doesn’t and never will. I have learnt to care less of what others think of me, and more of what I think of myself. I have learnt that I cannot force control on others, and I cannot make anyone see what they don’t want to see. I have learnt to let go. As I reflect on the past 365 days, I realize that I have changed a little bit on each of those days, but … I have learnt to keep that which makes me better and discard that which brings out the worst in me. I have learnt that God speaks piercingly and clearly; I just don’t really hear Him when the storms are raging inside of me. I have learnt that someone can pitch up out of the blue with the ability to press a “pause button” on you. A random act of kindness that shows up just for you, and it makes you stop. It silences you, and then it stuns you. It changes everything, and it reminds you that hope is never very far away. It fills your heart again, and it re-ignites a fire inside of you; it reminds you once more, that you matter.

So, when the clock chimes at midnight on the very last night of this year, I know that an extraordinary new cycle is about to begin … again. That very first day, of a brand-new year will never again seem like just another ordinary day. I would never again awake to my ordinary life, surrounded by my ordinary things and settle into my ordinary routine, as I have done every other year, because this year, it is not just another ordinary day. I will remember that The Universe will hit that invisible reset button where our stars, moon, sun and planets begin their sequences again. Maybe they’re a little different to the previous year or the year before that, but their orbits and repetitions begin once more. Instead of waking up to ordinary, I will awake to the knowing that there is a little more time and one more chance to alter things and turn my ordinary, into extraordinary. A chance to make the rest of this new year, the best of my days. I will begin day one with the promise of 365 more to follow; 365 chances to turn my hopes and aspirations into realities. To leave behind all grudges, fears, sorrow, anger or regret and move on to make a fresh, brand-new beginning that is full of brilliance, bliss and contentment.

I will look forward to my new days, because they are filled with love and hope. I will do more of what my soul loves and I will love and value each new day of 2018. Love without knowing how, when or from where it came. Love straight-forwardly and without complexities or pride.

So, for all of you out there … open up your heart and let your soul take the lead. Be a companion, a friend or a guide. Bring sunshine with you wherever you go, gather up the rainbows and cast away all your fears and heartache. Don’t try and prepare your heart for the moment that love shows up, it already knows what to do. Go through your new chance and more time in a way you never thought you would; it might just take you places you never thought you’d get to.

At the stroke of midnight, there is a promise in the air for newness, and you can’t miss it. You can’t miss that feeling of wonderful that is out there for you. You can’t ignore the certainty of newness that comes with the very first day of the newest year. Perhaps, they are new ways to break old habits, or perhaps, a way to break the habit of chasing things and rather, chasing your dreams. Don’t continue with being so busy carving out a life, that life begins to carve at you. Put down the phone and meet up with someone you haven’t seen in a while. Don’t mail pictures to someone you miss; rather take pictures with someone you love. Mend a quarrel and re-discover a once-valuable friendship. Find that forgotten friend you often think of and wonder about. Dismiss all doubts and trust someone more. Keep your promises and let your resentments go. Forgive others freely, but forgive yourself too. Replace pride by saying a loud and clear, sorry to someone who deserves it. Understand. Empathize. Sympathize. Lower your expectations and demands on others, but raise your standards by always doing your best and being the very best version of yourself. Say thank you. Show thank you. Repay an old debt by doing a random act of kindness. Smile and say hello to a stranger. Speak of love and be love. Show gratitude and appreciate all that just “happens to land in your lap.” Make an effort for someone else, you just can never know what they are going through. The loudest voice can be the sorest soul. The biggest smile can veil a bucket load of tears. The kind-heartedness of someone else may hide a kindness they themselves so desperately need. When they seem fine, stop listening to their words and hear what they can’t say out loud. Don’t waste time and never miss even one moment to be a life-jacket for someone else. Be who you once needed.

 

 

A Bucket-Full Of Different And A Truck-Load Of Crooked.

We are all a little different and a tad-bit crooked at Christmas time. Some are crushingly entangled in the cries of despair as they whisper terrifying secrets of sorrow when no-one else can hear. Despair is heightened at a time that should be substituted with joy and merriment. For some, it may seem as though the lights on their Christmas trees cold-heartedly burns away all that they had prayed for, and as the countdown to the most enchanting time of the year begins, the promise of magic for Christmas begins to fade. A miraculous time where anything is possible, and everything is imaginable, might now seem implausible. All that they really want, is to run away from it all, while anxious to hide from anything Christmas. Some were crushed by the things that have come undone throughout the year; things that they just cannot cast aside for now, not even for Christmas. Some have tried so many ways to stand up and remain strong, but for the most part of the year, their desperate efforts have been discarded, denied and just-not-enough. Their storms are so much more tempestuous, and their nightmares are so much more terrifying during Christmas, than ever before.

But at Christmas time, we are all the same. The wealthy and the poor feel and sense the same. They fear the same, and they agonize the same. They love the same and they lose the same. They need the same and they dream the same. The Spirit of Christmas does not adapt to who we are or what we do. It does not differentiate between a name or an address. It does not discriminate between refinement or elegance. Christmas miracles are not selective, and it does not choose its beneficiary based on success or achievements that are of this world. We are all in line for a miracle. We are chosen impartially for a little bit of magic; perhaps some are chosen to be the giver of a miracle or perhaps, a miracle is out there, chosen just for you to receive. But, what we cannot deny is, the joy it brings to give and to receive. So, why can’t we be both? Why can’t we give even if we have nothing to give?

Let’s be a bucket-full of different and a truck-load of crooked this year. Let’s give of us, even if we can’t give things. Let’s be instead. Let’s be who someone needs. Let’s be an answer to a prayer. Let’s not think this Christmas, let’s just feel. Let’s listen for the messages to our souls. Let’s hear their pleadings above the noises of this world. Let us listen for the things they are not saying. Let’s say thank you for our miracles and let us say it loud and clear by being someone else’s miracle this Christmas. Let us be a bucket-full of different and a truck-load of crooked this year, this Christmas, just this once.

There are those who crawl with blood on their knees; let’s kick away the stones underneath them. There are those whose feet are tired when they fall, let’s place a pillow there for them to lay down on. There are those who run, desperate to escape the hardships of this world, let’s grab firmly onto them so that they can stop to breathe. There are those who are ashamed of and desperate to mask their failures, let’s seek them out and guide them back to their worth. There are those without love and who are alone, let’s place an arm around them and hold them tightly against us, for just a little longer than is necessary. There are those who are apart from those that they yearn for, let’s listen to their silence and hear what they are not saying. There are those that are so overawed and misplaced, let’s turn on a light for them … they might just need it as they fight their way back into their place in this world. There are those who are cold, let’s light a fire to keep them warm. There are those enslaved by fear, let’s show up for them, and be their courage. Let’s forgive the sinners and let’s imitate the saints.

Just for Christmas. Just for the miracle of Christmas. Just for the belief of something magical about Christmas. Just so that the Spirit of Christmas can find them again. Just for those who have lost all hope and struggle with faith during Christmas time.

Someday, it might be you that wakes up; entirely defeated, tired, worn, sad, lonely, cold and utterly unsure of how to get through the days leading up to Christmas. You might not even know how to navigate from one moment to the next, and you might ramble around in a misty fog, frenetic to simply survive the waves that are drowning you. Life happens; everything can change and all that you have, can be gone in the blink of any eye and without any notice or prior warning. Life can be unjust and cruel; it can sweep in like an erratic hurricane, and leave a path of destruction you might not even see coming. Devastation is not a punishment for something you might have done wrong in the past; wicked things happen to decent people. The tragedies that exist in this world, might find a way to make it your turn, and there is not much you can do to stop it. It will beat you down and then it will trample you as you try to get back up on your feet. It will show you no mercy and it will never care that you did your best. It will never care how you tried to be your very best self, not only for you, but for others too. You might have been a miracle to others a thousand times before, but when calamity sets its sights on you, there is nothing you can do to escape it. And, as you desperately crawl your way out just to show up for Christmas, there might just be a hand that reaches out for you. Someone else might have asked for a miracle for you. It was a prayer meant for you because, just as you were once magical for someone else, another soul was asked to be your miracle for Christmas.

 

 

What If?

What if you once giddily stood at the altar, before your family and all your friends and vowed that you’d love only your chosen him? That there would never be anyone else again and that you’d love only him until the day you died? What if you wore your gown of white as proof of your undying love for him, and you swore to the legitimacy of the promise you were making to only him? What if you faithfully and staunchly undertook to remain by his side, through all the good and all the bad, the up’s and all the down’s? What if you convinced yourself that through sickness and health, poverty or wealth, you would stand up straight and remain loyal and devoted, and by his side? What if you pledged to love and cherish him, and only him for the rest of your life? What if you believed that you got all you could get and in the process, you unintentionally deceived your very own heart? What if you were burying the hopes of finding a kind of a love you are not sure exists, and what if your soul rebels against your mind and does not allow you to live anything lesser than truly-madly-deeply? What if you were flouting its gentle nudges and tender whispers as your mind frantically scolded and silenced it? What if you thought that love was an effortless and simple decision that you were capable of making without your heart’s approval or permission? What if you mistakenly thought your mind was smarter and far braver than your heart?

What if, years after that moment, you awake in the middle of night, terrified by the unexpected thumping and vulnerability of your heart? Unsettled and desperately afraid, you sit up and try to identify what it is that so brusquely awoke and unnerved you. Your heart races, and your hands begin to tremble as an unidentified fear grips at it, almost as though being squeezed by two remorseless hands. What if you look around you and for a moment, you are not quite sure you are where you should be? What if you feel like an imposter, looking in on a stranger’s life; a life you don’t want? And … while the world is asleep, while the humming of the birds are quiet and the sounds of the day has been silenced, the stillness begins to haunt and taunt you, as the battering of your own heart continues to demoralize and terrify you. What if, and for just an instant, you feel as though you don’t really belong in that very moment, and that it was all an enormous mistake right from the very start? What if you scrutinize your surroundings and in disbelief, you discover that you just don’t fit in, you never really did? What if all it ever was, was a determined need to belong and to fit in with someone you like and are safe with?

As you try to recover from your rude awakening, you are left staring miserably at the ring on your finger and you are left glaring questioningly at the furrows on your face. What if the gold has turned cold in your wedding band, and the lines on your face was supposed to be someone else’s story to tell? What if the walls begin to cave in around you; the same walls you desperately tried to make a home in, but are now a prisoner in? What if you feel secluded and trapped, and you begin to wonder if your footprints have been covered up by the sand or by the snow? What if you feel finished in an unfinished life? What if he is no longer home to you, and never really was? What if his fingerprints on your heart are wiped clean and all traces of him, have disappeared from your heart? What if his name has been drowned out by the noises of your world and his eyes have disappeared from your mind? What if your light for him has slowly burnt out, yet, there is a fire that still burns inside of you?

What if there are arms out there that fit flawlessly around you? What if you thought you were slightly broken, but forgot that you were worth loving? What if you took just what you thought you could get? What if you thought you were slightly off-center? Like a clock that is not perfectly set, but would still chime and tell the time, even if it was five minutes too early or ten minutes too late.

What if you forgot to value you and accept you for all that you are? What if you were so busy trying to make sense of your past and map out your future, that you missed the one your soul loves? What if you chose wrong? What if you were so desperate to rip apart from your unique self that in the end, you ripped a part from you. What if trying to repair you, finally broke you?

What if one day you wake up and your heart hurts? You feel unexpected anguish. You need never-before-needed validation of your place in the world. You need to matter more. You need to love, to truly-madly-deeply and ridiculously-foolishly-blindly love. Your loneliness is unpredictably excruciating. What if you realize that you chose to be loved, rather than to love, and now being loved is no longer as important as it once was? What if there is still evidence of your worth in a heart still searching for yours? What if a song might be playing right now, and that heart stops, because he misses you, even though he’s not quite sure who it is that he longs for? It might be that the winds carry the whispers of your name to him and as he hauntingly stops to find you, he frantically gasps for air. What if he dreams of you, the girl whose face he can’t see, but whose soul misses yours?

What if you are still thriving in another’s dreams? What if he longs for a place he’s not sure exists anymore, and has no idea if he will ever find you there? What if he is stuck in a moment, holding his breath, afraid that he might miss you? Anxious that he might never find you; terrified that you might have passed him by forever.

So, beautiful and deserving soul, wake up … and be true and faithful to your heart. Don’t hold hostage a heart that does not belong to you. Let him go and let him find the soul that misses his. Be loyal to your Spirit. Your what-if’s are closer than you think, and time is shorter than you will ever know. Don’t be safe. Don’t search for stability or comfort. How can your dreams come true while your eyes are closed, or while you settle for a good-enough fit? Look for the magic of the one that is searching for you, the one that fits you like a glove. Look for the miracles heading in your direction, and hear the gentle nudgings of your soul. Don’t sidestep them and never hide from them. Don’t allow your mind the power your heart is trained for. Don’t be the girl who stares at those walls blankly someday; the one who does not have a story for the lines on her face. Meet love halfway. Don’t wake up in the darkest of nights, tormented by all your should-have-been’s and never, ever allow for what-if’s. Throw out any reservations your mind might have, rake up and discard all sense, shelter and reasoning, and make space for the instinctive messages between your heart, your soul and your mind. There is never a do-over for any of us and time is too short for anything less than a magnificent, delightful and an exhilarating kind of love with no regrets.

 

 

 

Wait. Just Wait.

There will be days when the heartbreaks of yesterday will catch up with you. Maybe for a moment, maybe for a day, and perhaps, it might just lurk around you for a whole lot longer than is fair to your heart. It might unpredictably, reach you through a song, the mere mention of a name, an old photograph or something as ordinary as the rain. It might be the wind blowing a surprising whisper into your heart, or it might just be the way the clouds cover the sun on a day amongst many other cloud-covering days. It will claw into you, hold vindictively onto you and ruthlessly drag you flat onto the ground. It will kick the wind out of you, and it will begin to scratch at the surface of you until it has finally scraped its way into the very core of you. Deep into your heart and deep into your soul, it will pierce you until you bleed. It will hurt. It will be sore. It will remind you of a pain you can almost not imagine your heart can bear for much longer, and survive. It will exasperate you, and it might just trickle from the corner of your eyes.

But, what it can’t do … is defeat you. Not again. Never again. Be defenseless and be sad as you navigate through that moment, but never be ashamed of your fragilities. Stand up for and defend your weaknesses, because … it has a name, and its called love. It is the one thing in the world that is worth being crushed for. It is the one thing in the world that is worth fighting for. It is the one thing in this entire Universe that we all long for, and deserve. Breathe slowly until you breathe normally again. Gently, claw your way out by remembering how far you have come and how brave you have been. Love has asked you to be bolder than you ever thought you were. You have endured so much more than your courageous self could ever ask of you. You have made miracles out of moments that you should have fallen apart in. The moon and the stars are yours for the taking, so look up as you climb out and don’t ever bow your head to look down again. You’ve come home from a war, and you have fought bravely.

Inhale, exhale and celebrate your achievements. And then … stop to remember. Remember that, instead of replacing your gentle heart with a frosty one, you’ve added courage to an already delicate one. Instead of surrendering, you kept going. You’ve held your head up high and you’ve looked everyone else firmly and bravely in the eye. You’ve turned each barrier into an adventure, and you have valiantly hidden your tears behind your laughter. Remember that, even in times where you’ve doubted yourself, you have trusted your worth. You could have been blinded by the razor-sharp thorns, instead … you saw only the beauty in the roses. You could have crept along as a caterpillar, instead, you turned into a butterfly with beautiful wings that made you soar the skies.

Don’t be so hard on yourself, and never scold your battered heart. If you think that love has missed you, rejected you, rebelled against or forgotten you, it was never a journey of love to begin with. If your heart was injured by another, it was never his to bruise in the first place. If you ever feel that you’ve failed miserably in love, or did not give enough, remember that there’s not much more you can give than pure and simple love and devotion. If it was harder to be loved than to love, it was never your love to start off with.

Just wait. Be kind to yourself and wait. Wait for those butterflies, there are thousands just waiting to find a home inside of you. Wait for the trouncing of your heart each time you see his face. Wait for the quivering of your hands when the light on your phone lights up. Wait for the tremble in your voice when you hear his. Wait for the tingling of his touch. Wait for the vulnerability of your entire you, when he is close. Wait for the tremor in his own voice, when he speaks your name. Wait for the hands that search yours. Wait for the arms that fit so perfectly around you. Wait for the kiss that propels you into the stars.

Wait, because when he shows up, he will feel like home. Love will find you, always.

 

So, You’re Broken?

What if the brokenness you are feeling right now is nothing more than a side effect of bravery? Of a courage inside of you that has allowed you to embark on the scariest thing in the world, love. What if that so-called brokenness stems from the valor and the beauty of your wide-open arms that were ready to encircle another? What if it’s simply the consequences of a vulnerable heart that you have so freely given out to someone else. Someone you trusted to take ownership of, someone you relied wholeheartedly on to love it back. Someone you said yes to. Yes, to a life that embraced love and all there was that came with love. Someone you had faith in, to cherish and shelter that beautiful heart beating inside of you.

What if your brokenness is simply the aftermath of all you had surrendered and gave away to someone else? All that you had to give and all that you willingly, relinquished. What if your brokenness is the after-effect of so much of yourself that you rebuked in the end, that you forgot about you and the little things you were made up of? You tried so rigorously to be the joy for someone else, that you disregarded your own. You handed over your heart so selflessly and unreservedly, that you forgot that only you are the crusader of it. What if your heart was the only courageous one in all of this, and that you alone tried to keep it all together?

What if your brokenness is simply a by-product of love? The sacrifice it willingly made when you opened that door to a maybe. You love. So, maybe he might keep your love for him sheltered and sacred. Perhaps, he would honor and respect that which is most precious inside of you.

What if your brokenness is simply a secondary effect of a promise? What if your heart hinted at and unveiled all the possibilities it knew was out there for you? The promise of a love story that would subsist beyond realms and universes.

Has this brokenness replaced you with someone you don’t know, quite possibly don’t even like? Where is that girl, the one who once enthusiastically flattered you in the mirror? Have you become the girl who stopped playing her music loudly, afraid that she might not hear love calling for her? The girl who stopped daydreaming, because she is terrified that the real world might disenchant her. The girl who stopped flying because life expects her feet to be planted firmly on the ground. Did she forget or discard that girl in the mirror? Did she stop loving her first?

What if your brokenness is simply a call to get your you-ness back? The girl who danced instead of walked. The girl with stars in her eyes and flowers in her hair. The girl whose soul shone so brightly, that the world could not shun her. The girl who found moments in none and music in poems. The girl who sauntered through rocky paths as though she was climbing on stars. The girl who giggled into her sleeve and laughed out loud for no reason at all. The girl who turned her scars into stories and celebrations. The girl who understood that another women’s beauty is not the absence of her own. The girl who knew that she was never broken, just slightly bumped and a tad bit scratched.

 

 

 

Dear Guys …

You fell in love with the way she WAS when you first met her.

You fell in love with her joy and you fell in love with her spirit.

You fell in love with her laughter and you fell in love with the beautiful sound of her voice.

 

AND THEN … YOU GAVE HER A BOX TO FIT INTO?

TO SQUASH INTO?

TO WRIGGLE INTO?

Even though she might not fit?

 

Why give her a set of standards to conform to?

Why steal her joy and rebel against her perfect Spirit?

Why silence her laughter and mute her voice?

But then, one day you wake up and … she is no longer the girl you once fell in love with. You will be the one to ask her, WHERE she went and WHAT happened to her?

Where is the girl you once LOVED?

You will say things like, she just is NEVER happy anymore.

You will blame HER for changing and you will begin your search for someone new; someone whose joy and Spirit will captivate you again.

Whose laughter and voice will absolutely bewitch and mesmerize you once more.

But only … ONLY UNTIL you hand her a box too. Until you have placed her inside it, because you WILL and because, you HAVE once before.

Because … that’s what YOU do.

Let her SHINE in color.

Let her be FREE.

Let her grow into the woman she CAN become, with you at her side.

Let her LOVE you, without fear.

Let her LAUGH from her stomach.

Let her make MISTAKES, and let her make a FOOL of herself.

 

After all, isn’t THAT what you fell in love with … ONCE?

 

Let It Be You …

You see them, so many of them. Those intimidating, golden and sunshine girls that swoon around him while their feet barely touch the ground. And … as though you don’t belong in their sunlight, you make yourself so small and do your best to fade away unseen. You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve to be counted as an element of their rhythm. They arrogantly claim him while you trail off into the background and vanish far off into the distance.

You slip away quietly, invisibly and overlooked. You don’t want him to see you dissolve amongst these golden girls. You lower your head, desperate to pass through undetected. How cruel it would be for your heart to realize, it doesn’t deserve his. How brutal is it that your soul does not shine like a jewel in his eyes? You can’t let your heart catch on that it does not deserve him, when you’ve assured it that it ought to wear a smile and how your soul, deserves to matter amongst the very best of them.

Girl, what are you even thinking?

Wipe away those tears and move away from those fears. Let it be you, who deserves him. You don’t have to hide in the shadows, shine as only you can sparkle and be your own kind of wonderful. Evoke your own kind of beautiful, and stop hiding in the cold tracks of the golden girls. Why are they golden and you’re not? Who crowned them and skipped you? Why do their lights shine so brightly as you frantically try and darken yours?

Be you and endorse you. Think of him as lucky to deserve you. Don’t hand the golden girls all the glory, when you are the one with all the strength and beauty. Don’t smile to mask the discomfort, smile because of how beautiful you are when you smile. Feel safe in your exquisite heart and find comfort in your magnificent skin. Your laughter is you and it’s magnificent. Your mere presence is your own unique you, and it’s significant. Don’t impose a lesser version of love upon your heart, when it deserves nothing less than wonderful. Let it be your heart that is worthy.

You are golden too. You deserve it all, too. You are exactly who you should be. Tell that girl in the mirror staring back at you, that you are privileged to be her. Let it be her, who deserves him. Your dreams are precious and no lesser than anyone else’s, hunt them. Don’t trade your enchanted voice for silence. Don’t trade your ecstasy for sorrow. Don’t trade your exhilaration for anger. Don’t trade your heart for shelter. Don’t trade you; any piece of you, any fraction of you or any fragment of you. Reach up as high as you can and touch the sky. Build that ladder that will reach the stars someday, and climb it. Let them look at you as the golden, sunshine girl. Let it be your shadow, they hide in. Let it be just you, who deserves him.

 

Did The Universe Ask You To Love More Than One?

You promise him that it’s him you want and that it’s him you want to be with. You pledge your love and devotion to him, because … you do love him, and you are devoted to only him. You love him wildly. You love him faithfully. You love him so incredibly passionately. Your heart can compare him to no other, and you dream of your tomorrows with him. You have every intention of being faithfully dedicated to him, to just one. In the end, we all can only love one. We are made to only love one. There is only one lid per pot. We were never made to love more than one, the same. We were never made to love more than one at the same time, were we?

And at first, it is only him. You bind and pledge your truest of love and allegiance to only one. All that came before him, no longer matters. A love that you once cherished and held onto so feverishly before your new him showed up, is at once, abandoned and disregarded. It must be forgotten. You tell yourself that it was never love, and that you just need time to adjust to your new him. You are keen to distract yourself from your other him, the one you once knew so well. Someone you might have clung to because of familiarity or shelter, but not love. It could never have been love because you love your new him, you know you do. You are convinced that the lingering emotions for your other him will eventually dwindle. You are sure it will. It has to. We were not made to love more than one.

But the time you’ve allowed for yourself to adjust, changes nothing. You still and do love him, the new him you undertook to love forever. But then, one night and without warning, you pretend to be asleep because you were unexpectedly reminded of your other him’s scent earlier on. No matter how hard you tried to ignore the memory of him; no matter how desperate you were to disregard the rush of emotions that had abruptly found its way back into your heart, you just can’t shake it off. Your new him can’t know. You question why the sentience of your other him’s odour so absolutely unnerves you. You lay reminiscing about how he once touched you and how he felt against you. You rebuke yourself for thinking of your other him again. You begin to whisper silent “I miss you’s” to your other him when no-one else can hear, and you hate yourself for doing so. You punish yourself for being suddenly perplexed by what it all means and where it would all end? You try to think back to when it all began and why you failed to see it creeping up on you? You wonder how long he’s truly been on your mind for, and how long the memory of him will still last? You don’t love him, it has to be so. You love another, it has to be so. You make no sense of anything as you urgently aim to decrypt your untaught emotions. You try and find a trigger. Why is he on your mind when your new him is so staunchly set in your heart. Why does the memory of your other him’s voice make way for the broadest smile on your face? You want your other him to stop launching, what you deem to be, a brutal attack on your heart and on your mind. You choose your new him. Your soul mate, he has to be. Why is your other him living in your mind? Why is your heart searching for him again? Why does the memory of him suddenly hurt so much? Is it your heart that made the very first move? What about your new him? Why are you still so captivated by your other him that you continue to seek him out, but at the same time, you can’t let go of your new him? Why do you set aside time to find your other him in your mind, and linger there … with him? Is your soul pursuing him? As you dawdle with your other him in your mind, you discover in horror that your body too, still craves his. You play your “could-have-been’s” out like a movie in your mind, and you can barely breathe as your heart begins to race fiercely. While you lay there, pretending to sleep, you see your other him’s eyes staring back at you.

You turn over to your new him who lays staring out into the dark, leaving you to pretend to be asleep. You say that you just want to look into his eyes. You are desperate to hear your heart whisper that he is the one. Your heart does not let you down; it tells you that it loves him, and it can’t lose him. You ask your new love not to move, not to say a word, and not to ask you about it. You whisper how you love him, but your soul reminds you of your other him, at the very same time.

You lay watching him as he falls asleep. You realize that you should have known that it was coming to this. You were blind, you never wanted to see. There are traces of them both in your eyes and in your heart. You know that you love them equally, just differently. You choose one to love in full view of the world, while you can only love the other in your mind. Equally, just differently. He might find the proof of your shredded love in your eyes, but there are no lies on your body. You don’t love your other him like that, you can’t. You know that you love your new him, but the Universe has asked you to love more than one. It has asked you to choose one and long for the other. It has demanded a choice and when you finally choose, it unforgivingly begins to toss memories of the other him at you. It heartlessly begins two different stories in your heart, and it watches you play out the love you have for them both. It has cruelly allowed you to be torn between two hearts, two souls and two him’s.  It reminds you of the one when you are with the other. It lets you long for the other when you’re with the one. It let you choose and it left you feeling as though you were never equipped to make that choice. You should never have had to choose. You should never have been damned into an eternity of loving two, equally but differently. You can’t choose. You never could. You love them both. You need them, both. Your heart won’t let you choose now, when it’s already too late. When you have already chosen. When you probably would have chosen exactly the same, again. The Universe has allowed another to stroll thoughtlessly into your heart, and blind you for a while. Only for a while. Only for a bit. For only a moment, it let you believe that you love only one. It let you breathe before it hurled your other him back at you, and asked you to love them both, equally. Yet, differently. It has asked you to love them both all at the same time, when the world allows you to love only one.

 

Is Two Out Of Three Enough?

You can spend all night talking to him, when you are spending all day trying to convince yourself that you just need another day or just one more night, before you can at last, tick off number three on your checklist. You tell yourself that you are only moments away from adding that one final tick. That one last much-wanted blot. The one mark you stop thinking you really need. The one you can perhaps, live without … forever.

You want him ……………………….. 

You need him ………………………..

You love him ………………………… ✘

But, from the innermost gist of you, you begin to realize that there is just no way at all, that you will ever love him, and there is not much else that could ever change the way you feel. You try not to be sad when you reassure yourself that you’ve tried all you conceivably could, to tick-off that one last check-box.

You hold on to your two-out-of-three’er, and zealously convince yourself that you’re not doing too badly. There’s just nothing left to hunt or pursue, and there’s not much more you can say about that one final check-box. It has gotten as good as it will ever get.

You try to show how passionately you want him and how feverishly you need him, but after a while, you can no longer find the words to excuse the missing third, and final tick. The most significant of them all, love. You know that if you walk away from your two-out-of-three-someone, there is more than likely, not another two’er out there for you. There might be a one’er somewhere, but not likely, another two’er. There will certainly nowhere else be, another three-out-of-three’er, a perfectly ticked checklist. There will never be a three-out-of-three’er for you, again. Can you lie? Can you tell him he is your three’er? Will he settle for his rating if he knew he was only your two’er?

Because, to your once-upon-a-time “three-out-of-three’er”, you were only a two-out-of-three’er. You were once wanted and needed, but, there was just no way he could ever tick-off that one last check-box either. He could not make you his three-out-of-three’er. The most significant of them all, love. And when the nights are long and stormy; when the days are lonely and noisy, you want to be someone’s three’er. You need to be someone’s three’er. You want to love your three’er and you want your three’er to love you back. You don’t want to be a two’er. You were never prepared to settle as someone’s two’er.

And just then, it becomes that one mark you stop thinking you really need. The one you can perhaps, live without … forever.

Is two out of three enough?