We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
I’m thinking that it might actually be possible for things to work out sometimes. Definitely not everything and maybe not the way you imagined. But sometimes, when you least expected it, life surprises you.
A soul mate is not the person
who makes you the happiest, but the one
that makes you feel the most.
Who conducts your heart to bang the loudest,
who can drag you giggling
with forgiveness from the cellar they locked you in.
- Sierra DeMulder, excerpt from “Unrequited Love Poem” (via psych-facts)
The Japanese say you have three faces.
The first face, you show to the world. The second face, you show to your close friends, and your family.
The third face, you never show anyone. It is the truest reflection of who you are.
Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made, or by dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused.
Write to write. Write because you need to write. Write to settle the rage within you. Write with an internal purpose. Write about something or someone that means so much to you, that you don’t care what others think.