Dream Life

                                         You are still becoming who you were meant to be and this is also true: what if you don't always have to worry about becoming more of who you are? What is who you are right now is more than enough and it's just a matter of slowing down and realizing your worth? Learning to be still long enough to notice the grace that has always  been there? Forward movement is a beautiful thing. Many of us are desperate for a beautiful future and there is nothing wrong with that. And this is also true: there is nothing wrong with slowness. All around you in nature, a billion different things move at a slow pace, just as they are supposed to. No flower is rushing to be somewhere else. No wave is pushing its way to the shore before before  its time. Even when the rain pours down quickly, it took  time for that level of force to build up. Wherever ...

                                        Learn how to truly be yourself; go to lunch, get coffee, go and watch a movie, alone and understand that there is no need to feel lonely . Take it as an opportunity to learn more about yourself. Fall in love with yourself and romanticise everything you do. The way your voice changes when you ask a shopkeeper, cinema attendant, waiter  or any other person of vague authority for something. The way you bite the inside of your cheek when you are nervous. They way you feel the heat in your cheeks rising with the cool sides of your hands. Become enamoured with the little habits and idiosyncrasies that are only noticed by someone who loves you.

                                               Either peace or happiness, let it enfold you When I was a young girl I felt these things were dumb, unsophisticated. I had bad blood, a twisted mind, a precarious upbringing I was hard as granite, I  leered at the sun. I trusted no woman and especially no man. I was living a hell in amm rooms, I broke things, smashed things, walked through glass, cursed. I challenged evrything, was continually being evicted , jailed , in and  out of fights, in and out of my mind. men were something to screw and rail at , I had no female friends. I changed jobs and cities, I hated holidays, babies, history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movies, spiders, garbagemen, english accents, spain, france, italy, walnuts and the colos orange. algebra angred me, opera sickened me, charlie chaplin was a fake and flowers were fo...

                                                        The pain will hold on gently As you move throughout your day You'll try to shake it softly But quickly learn it wants to stay It lingers in the corner  It follows you around Juts when you think you've lost it You learn no solace can be found So here's a trick, I've learned a few For me and pain, we're good old friends And pain's afraid of love, you see Because love, it always mends So openup your eyes a bit Inhale deep and strong Look for the twinkle of loves presence That surrounds you all day long It could be here, it could be there A thought, a mile, a gift Look for the love in every moment And your pain will start to shift Just start small, and whynot now Find something good to think of Pain will shy away, you'll see When what you focus on is love And bit by bit , you'll chip away At t...

                                       When her mouth meets mine again , it's as if every last piece of  my armor disintegrates and every last piece of ice surrounding  the glacier that was my heart melts and evaporates. Whoever coined the phrase, I love you to death obviously never experienced the kind of love Taste and I share. If that were the case, the phrase would be I love you to life. Because that's exactly what love did. Loved back to life.

                                          Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stodd And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear, Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood  and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

                                               Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plum the hazel shells with a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has O'er-brimm'd their dammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft -lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sond asleep, Drow'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou ...

  I've always admired roses But not for their color There's something about them That I haven't yet discovered Yet everyone tells me That I'm looking into deep That it is just a flower  Just a little prize you can keep But yet there is something special About the roses that you see And It's not about the petals It's about the thorns to me It puzzles me how something So beautiful and rare Can cut you so deep And you wouldn't even care

                                 If you've listened close to silence, I'm sure that you have heard, The gentle constant ringing, In the space between two words, When you really pay attention, You find it's not just in your head, But instead is whispers of the words, The world has left unsaid, It's " I love you" left unspoken, And a mothers last goodbye, That she never had the chance to say, As she watched her daughter die, It's forgiveness never given, And a "sorry" left too late, That would have saved a best friends life, If they'd known it could not wait, It's a phrase that could have helped them, And it's secrets that could heal, It's words from those too scared to say, The truth of how they feel, But you have an advantage, For you're still alive to speak, Words that could help save a life, Or give strength to someone weak, So many you never leave unspoken, Words the whole world ought to hear, Before...

                                  When i was little, i used to watch raindrops sliding down the care window. i thought that perhaps they were racing to get across the finish line. i noticed the way the idle droplets were rescued by their brothers colliding into them and propelling them forward. now that i'm older , i watch people . and i wonder why we are all still pretending that we don't need others to nudge us to keep moving forward when we get a little stuck along this journey we call life.

                                     I remember sitting on the swing in our backyard when i was eight years old, thinking about how strange it was that i wouldn't remember that exact moment in a few months. Eleven years later & perhaps the irony of it all is how clear that memory still is for me. i think about it often not sitting on the swing but just the messiness of memories and how at any given time, we can exist in a thousand different places just by brushing up against other lives. it's a scary and beautiful thing, don't you think? there are things we have said and done that are so easily forgotten, but somewhere, in some mind, they are remembered. i wonder about all the things i am. how in some stories i may be the conflict and in others, the resolution. how i might be nothing more than the girl who ordered a flat white with one sugar but even still, i exist outside of this body and...

                                                                                                                      He works.                    She works.                 they split bills.             his hobbies are video games.         her hobbies are reading and Facebook.          he leaves her alone to her hobbies.          she leaves her alone to her hobbies. at night time they watch illegally downloaded movies together                 or stream one on Netfli...

                                 One day when you wake up, You will find that you've become a forest. You've grown roots and found strength in them that no one thought you had. You have become stronger and more beautiful, full of life giving qualities. You have learned to take all the negativity around you and turn it into oxygen for easy breathing. A host of wild creatures live inside you and you call them stories. A variety of beautiful birds nest inside your mind  and you call them memories. You have become an incredible self sustaining thing of epic proportions. And you should be so proud of yourself, of how far you have come from the seeds of who you used to be.

                                           I love him and he loves me. We spend every moment together. When sleep parts us, we often meet in our dreams. I like to take naps throughout the day. Like a cat, he says. He is a cat person. He thinks my eyes are beautiful and strange. He has never seen eyes like mine up close before. He says they look at him with daggers when he has done something wrong. Like when he forgets to order olives on my half of the pizza. He thinks I am especially cute when angry. We argue over whose turn it is to put the dvd in the player. Sometimes no one wins and we end up watching bad TV. Which is never really a bad thing. He never imagined he would be with someone like me. But now he says , he can't imagine himself with anyone else.

                               Love blurs you vision but after it recedes , you can see more clearly than ever. It's like the tide going out, revealing whatever's  been thrown away and sunk: broken bottles, old gloves, rusting pop cans, nibbles fishbodies, bones. This is the kind of thing  you see if you sit in the darkness with open eyes, not knowing the future.

                                I don't know what it is like to love someone, who the world tells me I am not supposed to love. I can't imagine how hard it must be to love someone I am afraid to kiss on the street . But I do know what it like to love someone who I cannot be with. I know how it feels to have my brain tell me one thing, and my heart another. To live with the knowledge that if circumstances had been different, I would be with the one I love. I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them.

                                            Do you think there is the possibility of you and I? In this lifetime, is that too much to hope for? There is something so delicate about this time, so fragile.  And if nothing ever comes of it, at least I have known this feeling,  this wonderful sense of optimism.  It is something I can always keep close to me-to draw from in my darkest hour like a ray of unspent sunshine.  No matter what happens next, I will always be glad to know there is someone like you in the world.

                                          The moon has always been the ocean's most jealous lover. But every time he has tried to fully control her tides, She has turned into a terrible tempest and broken through his chains with such fury, only allowing him the illusion of control on her smallest, weakest tides Woman , you are the ocean. And no one, not even the moon itself is allowed to control your glorious, beautiful tides.