it's personal discussion

13 views
Journals Archived > The Later it Gets, The Deeper the Thoughts

Comments Showing 1-6 of 6 (6 new)    post a comment »
dateUp arrow    newest »

message 1: by Cynthia (new)

Cynthia (cyntiwrites) | 4 comments On tumblr I started posting some of my late night thoughts and realized that it would be a good journal topic. Expect something regularly enough! :)


message 2: by [deleted user] (new)

What's your tumblr? :)


message 3: by Cynthia (new)

Cynthia (cyntiwrites) | 4 comments Whatever{: 3/22 Happily ever after :} wrote: "What's your tumblr? :)" http://cynthiasgiraffesandmonkeys.tum... Happy Tumbling!


message 4: by Cynthia (new)

Cynthia (cyntiwrites) | 4 comments I like to believe that everyone has saved someone. Accidentally, intentionally, physically, mentally. To be honest, it’s what I live for. To know that my existence impacts others as well. To know that what I do is important, not only to me but to someone else, even if they do not realize it. A simple sentence, a late night conversation, a touch of the hand, or a stern warning. Anything and everything. Maybe by blocking someone’s path I helped them avoid disaster. By telling a child certain dangers, they were saved down the road. By casually telling someone how important they are, saving them tears at night and starting their own mend. Maybe I am just an optimist looking for a reason to exist. Maybe it’s the only way my soul can be. But I like to believe that everyone has saved someone and sometimes I see it so.

-The Later, the Deeper the Thoughts


message 5: by [deleted user] (new)

Wow that is deep. When it gets later I just get more loopy and crazy.


message 6: by Cynthia (last edited Sep 14, 2015 06:19PM) (new)

Cynthia (cyntiwrites) | 4 comments I look onto the vast scene and all I see is people. Over the cliffs and valleys and canyons are the countless, old, forgotten footsteps of those people no ont thinks about. At one time my house was part of a settlement with a farmer who worked too hard for too little and before then there were Native American people who came there every summer and saw it as a vacation spot. Or migrations reaching across my school yard as people fought on for a noble cause. Under my bedroom there is a burial ground, the place of someone’s birth, every step of life walked by someone new across where my floorboards lie. Everywhere is somewhere to someone. When I look to the horizon, that is what I see.

-The Later, the Deeper the Thoughts


back to top