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If I have learned anything this year, it’s that I won’t ever be ready for what life throws at me. I will never be adequately prepared. I won’t have the right words when it counts for something. I won’t know the right answer when fate itself is staring me down.
I have learned to stop saying yes when I don’t mean it—to live as authentically as I know how.
If a boy asks you for your name, don’t give it to him. He will say it back to you in a voice like gravel and honey, and you will crave his hands all rough and sweet. But you’re not the kind of girl who builds her house from sticks; you are a fortress, stubborn and strong. Do not give away the keys to the kingdom to anyone less than a king.
But this is the moment you’ll always look back on as the day you put yourself first. Go and make something beautiful of your life and I promise you, one day you’ll forget he was ever there.
Broken They put me in a gown and sat me in a chair and a man in a white coat showed me picture card after card and said tell me the first thing that comes to your mind. First he showed me a china plate and I said, hunger. Then he showed me a dead bird and I said, fallen. Then he showed a picture of you. I closed my eyes and said, broken.
And that is our main point of difference. I will keep mining ground we’ve covered to see if there is anything worth salvaging, and you will always be looking for new territory to explore. But there will be times when we switch, when you will be behind that metal detector, and I will be standing at the helm.
Like the presence of an ache where you can’t pinpoint exactly where it hurts, you just know it does.
Men don’t compare us with other women. They compare us to an ideal.
Greet the world with no expectation. Love as though you have never been hurt or betrayed. Let go of the ones who take so much from you yet offer nothing in return. This is how you take back your power.
You said I was the girl who couldn’t decide between the ocean and the shore. Said the only way to make me fall in love with the present was to turn it into my past.
Falling into You It was so easy falling into you again, like losing my place in a book and then retracing my steps back into the past, to find the part in the story I left off.
Strength Don’t let them tell you that your pain should be confined to the past, that it bears no relevance to the present. Your pain is part of who you are. They don’t know how strong that makes you.
Writing There is one thing you should know about writing. It will inevitably lead you to dark places as you cannot write authentically about something unless you have lived it.
But do not be too indulgent despite how addictive sadness can be, how easy it is to get lost down the path of self-destruction. You must emerge from adversity, scathed but victorious to tell your story and, in turn, light the way for others.
Love always came to me as a question, but with you, it felt like an answer. I didn’t know I had put up walls until you brought them crashing down. I couldn’t figure out why love was different with you until I realized it hadn’t been love with anyone else.
I cant relate but this is deep
When you don’t have the whole attention of someone, you find yourself begging for it from everyone.
My Place in the Universe I feel my life culminating to a point, the delicate threads of my existence joining to form a tapestry. The events up until the present that had seemed of no particular significance, now imbued with a deeper, darker meaning. I can see it so clearly—the greater plan. I understand that I am both the architect and tenant of my destruction. I can feel it so acutely like an ache in my chest, knowing ultimately that I am locked into a chain of events that I cannot stop, an outcome I cannot alter, feeling at once helpless yet hopelessly awed by the power of my part in this
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Meant to Be If they were meant to be in your life, nothing could ever make them leave. If they weren’t, nothing in the world could make them stay.
Don’t you know since the dawn of time, poetry has been used to shield you from those who mean to do you harm? The greatest power lies in our words, and these are the ones I have written to keep you safe.
Memories Lost If I could, I would erase myself from your memory. You would lose all recollection of loving me. You won’t remember why you stopped.
My Life I will celebrate this life of mine, with or without you. The moon does not need the sun to tell her she is already whole.
From a Dream There are three stages of waking: Remembering who you are. Forgetting what you dreamt. Letting go of what you felt in that dream. Sometimes they happen like waves, one after another. At times they can occur in no particular order. Other times they overlap all at once. That’s what it was like to love you. It was like waking from a dream.
When It’s Over There is a point in every relationship when you realize it’s over and seldom is it the day you break up. For some, that moment is long after you say goodbye. For others, the moment is long before.
Mine is long before
I shed my past like layers of skin. I let them fall at my feet like discarded clothing. I pay my dues and make amends for the sins of my youth. I step out from the shadows and into the light, naked and free. I can hear my spirit singing. I can feel my wings unfolding. And the sky is calling my name.
It’s true the world is a great big place, and you’re not done exploring every inch of it. But, sweetheart, it’s all just smoke and mirrors. And if you don’t make her yours now, someone else will. And you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.
Thoughts on Letting Go It’s possible to move on from someone even if your heart refuses to let go. And it’s not something you need to consciously do. It will just happen gradually, over time. The ache will always be there, but the intensity will fade, and you’ll find other beautiful things to fill your days with.
To Myself, Ten Years Ago You won’t believe what I see from this vantage point, the years stretching out before you like a long and winding road. I don’t want to scare you, but there is a forest just up ahead. One so dense and dark, the sunlight won’t reach you for awhile. You will wander lost, in this long, perilous night, not knowing if it will ever come to an end. But believe me, the light will find you again, and when it does, you will no longer be afraid of the dark.
Poetry and Prose Sometimes I am caught between poetry and prose, like two lovers I can’t decide between. Prose says to me, let’s build something long and lasting. Poetry takes me by the hand, and whispers, come with me, let’s get lost for awhile.
After All I felt you again in my sleep last night. Like always my dreams of you are peripheral. An overheard conversation where your name is mentioned; a letter in my hand I try desperately to read before I wake. A Styrofoam coffee cup and half-read book on an empty table where I knew you were just minutes before. It’s as though my dreams are a mirror of my waking world, like finding myself walking down the street where I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of you, only to look again and realize it wasn’t you after all.
Sometimes it feels like my pen is another vessel, another vein, organic like the blood that rushes through, and spills onto paper. And my heart, tired and tender, beats out your name, letter by letter. While my mind, a thousand miles a minute, tries to take it all back.
When the battle is done, and you think you have won— don’t dance on my grave just yet. If you are the moon, then I am the sun— I will not allow you to forget. In my own time I will take back what’s mine, for I am not your friend. In the dark of the night, And the shifting of tides— I will come for you then.
