You know… along with real human friends. :>
We need people in our lives with whom we can be as open as possible. To have real conversations with people may seem like such a simple, obvious suggestion, but it involves courage and risk.
…because people who talk about their dreams are actually trying to tell you things about themselves they’d never admit in normal conversation. It’s a way for people to be honest without telling the truth.
Anonymous asked: Are you okay? :/
I felt too much, he didn’t.
Anonymous asked: do you love yourself?
You have to stop believing that you need other people’s permission to be okay with yourself. That however you do or don’t align with what other people value determines your worth. That however the world does or doesn’t show you kindness is a direct reflection of how much you deserve it. You have to be kind to yourself. Even, and probably most especially, when it seems least deserved.
When he talks about her, my heart tries to shell itself like a clam
to see if there’s any soft meat inside worth saving.
I’ve never even said a single word to her, yet the language
they learned together is one I’m forced to be fluent in.
Feel like a stained glass window that won’t let any light through
when I’m reminded that there was actually another woman before me.
And I know this way of thinking
is like catching the moon between your thumb and index finger,
like believing the sun is closer than it is,
but I’ve never been particularly good with perspective.
There’s always the lingering fear that he still loves her
still loves her like you’d love a slow bruise
that hurts black and blue but feels so good too,
like trees thirst for the acid rain that kills them.
I need to stop carrying this memory of someone I’ve never even met
around inside me like ambulances carry their dead bodies.
So give me a purple heart for this battle I’ve been in, this doubt,
because I’ve been wounded but I’m still breathing too.