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Writings for Winter: lessons i found out too late Sometimes people don’t love you like you were meant to be
because they don’t know how to love themselves.
Even jellyfish wish they could flip things around
and sting themselves for once.
You know, I have never seen a superhero
who didn’t have a heart waving a white cape
of surrender on the…
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Karen Armstrong, The Spiral Staircase
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“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I was afraid. I am not worthy of you. But I still love you, I think.
Don’t try and find me again, you would be lonely for music. I want you to be happy. I want you to marry again. I’m going to write out instructions for your next wife.To my husband’s next wife: Be gentle. Be sure you comb his hair when it’s wet. Do not fail to notice that his face flushes pink like a bride’s when you kiss him. Give him lots to eat. He forgets to eat and he gets cranky.
When he is sad, kiss his forehead and I will thank you. For he is a young prince and his robes are too heavy on him. His crown falls down around his ears.I’ll give this letter to a worm. I hope he finds you.
”
Love.— from “Eurydice” by Sarah Ruhl (via ihopehetakesyourfilthyheart) -
“Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.” — Kurt Vonnegut (via theyweregreen)(via the-great-detectives)
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“The next suitable person you’re in light conversation with, you stop suddenly in the middle of the conversation and look at the person closely and say, “What’s wrong?” You say it in a concerned way. He’ll say, “What do you mean?” You say, “Something’s wrong. I can tell. What is it?” And he’ll look stunned and say, “How did you know?” He doesn’t realize something’s always wrong, with everybody. Often more than one thing. He doesn’t know everybody’s always going around all the time with something wrong and believing they’re exerting great willpower and control to keep other people, for whom they think nothing’s ever wrong, from seeing it.” -
I just want to hug everyone who feels like they let their parents down or like they’re useless or terrible or unwanted and say no, no, I’m proud of you, I understand, I’m so proud of you and your parents should be but I also know how you feel if they’re not and I know it hurts and you deserve better and I love you.
(via ibefriendshadowsonmywall)
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“ All the poems I’ve been writing lately are either
apologies or confessions or ways to negotiate
with the demons inside by laying myself out naked
and seeing which part of me they’d like
as a sacrifice.Last year they took my lungs.
The year before, my mind.I blame my childhood epilepsy on an earthquake
that I stole from San Francisco,
and ever since I’ve tremor-proofed my bones
so that each heartbeat doesn’t break me
during the night.The other day I told someone that I never meant
to save a life with my poem.I lied.
All of these are just ways to keep my own soul away
from its noose.I know what it’s like to try to give yourself
mouth-to-mouth resuscitation
when you’ve drowned in the pool of your skin,
and I know what it’s like to want to scream out
Help
only to realize that you’re out in an ocean
that everyone has heard of but no one
knows to name.I’m writing this now because everyone’s sadness is a different story
and people keep mistaking theirs for something more beautiful
than another’s.But if you cradle your heartbreak between your palms —
if you whisper to it, coddle it,
let it grow and suckle on your breasts,
all you’re doing is giving life to something
that’ll slowly destroy you.All you’re doing is bringing glow to its cheeks
and making its eyes brighter,
while yours dim,
dim,
are gone.Don’t hold sadness against you like you’ve given
birth to something beautiful. Don’t let it
hang onto your neck and kiss the soft spot underneath
your chin, while you, in turn, reconsider the validity of the
bridge signs that tell you Please.
Life is worth living.Because everyone is breaking in a way I can’t understand
”
and the most I can do is unravel my skin slowly
and slowly and slowly
and weave it into something
that I can wrap around another human being
when the nights are too dark
for them to see the whites of their own eyes.— “Suicide Hotline,” Shinji Moon (via fakeville)(via spiritlesstarbucks)
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“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” — Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (via xplsns)(via rosegold-heartt)
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“All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. And that’s the tragedy of living.”
