people inspire you, or they drain you – pick them wisely.
she never gives a straight answer, always hiding behind a curtain of vague words and round about phrases. she walks in circles, always just out of reach. they call her manipulative, evasive, always twisting what people say to suit her needs, but she’s not like that, not really. she just doesn’t know how not to speak in riddles, how not to build mazes and paradoxical labyrinths with every word she say, because it’s so ingrained into every fiber of her being. it’s a defense mechanism, really, more than anything. when people attack her, when they laugh and scoff at her, she withdraws within herself ans spits out sentences that seem to mean everything and nothing all at once. it’s a defense mechanism, because if they can’t find her behind the haziness she’s constructed around herself, they can’t touch her, can’t even hurt her, even if sometimes they’re right when they call her pretentious or false or deceitful. it’s hard to tell which started the other, if she’s like this because they pick apart at her or if they scratch at her until her heart bleeds because she makes mazes. her life is something of a web of intricacies just like her speech, but she doesn’t know how to do differently, doesn’t know how to stop
Laughter is beautiful. Kindness is beautiful. Cellulite is beautiful. Softness and plumpness and roundness are beautiful. It’s more important to be interesting, to be vivid, and to be adventurous, than to sit for pictures. A woman’s soft tummy is a miracle of nature. Beauty comes from tenderness. Beauty comes from variety, from specificity, from the fact that no person in the world looks exactly like anyone else. Beauty comes from the tragedy that each person’s life is destined to be lost to time. I believe women are too hard on themselves. I believe that when you love someone, she becomes beautiful to you. I believe the eyes see everything through the heart- and nothing in the world feels as good as resting them on someone you love. I have trained my eyes to look for beauty, and I’ve gotten very good at finding it. You can argue and tell me it’s not true, but I really don’t care what anyone says. I have come, at last, to believe in the title I came up with for the book: Everyone Is Beautiful.
a relationship fails from the lies and the deceit and the betrayal and the hurt and the pain. there are no excuses, reasons, ways around it. both parties forget to recognize the effort, the trials, the fighting for one another. you forget that s/he has put up with all of your faults, your anger, your imperfections, your wishes, your ugly-parts-that-nobody-would-ever-accept. i never wanted to give up— in terms of on you. i never wanted to give up on you because i knew you in ways that you didn’t think i did. i knew your past, your secrets, your fears. you knew all of mine. we opened each other up and scrutinized and examined and took what we wanted and ran away with what only we needed. what you loved more than me hurt me constantly and instead of trying to make you change, i tried to adapt to them and in the process, lost myself and my morals, my priorities, my wants and needs. and in turn, i lost my way and didn’t consider how much it would affect you, took you for granted and thought you would always be my road map to finding myself over again and again. the moments of anguish, of frustration— all of the “why can’t you do this for me”s and “please.. at least try”s; i realize the one thing i hated most was the one thing you loved more. and i realized i allowed myself to put your happiness above my own instead of always telling you the truth.. but lying is never ever excused, either. and it sits here, in this room, it takes up so much space and i just watch it day to day wondering if life would have been better. if you would have ever put me above it. if i would have ever gotten better, with you if not, on my own. and i needed the space and time to think realistically.. if love wasn’t in the equation, what else was? if this was worth it.. what wasn’t? if i could allow myself to surrender to this.. when would i ever truly stand on my own two feet..
’ve seen way too much and wore my heart on my sleeve way too often to forget what it’s like to feel so fragile and impermanent. i’ve built cities from the depths of broken hearts only to watch as they burst into scintillating luster but i’m only human and humans try until they bleed or until life robs them of strength. i’m tired and my eyes are weak from the burning desire to see beyond the concrete truths. This is all that it’ll ever be, between you and i, me and the next, just like how it’s been with everyone else. i am that comfort, that change, that temporary escape; a distraction. i’ve accepted that a long time ago so I stopped hoping for things to be different. i’ll help you and i’ll hold your hands but when my time is up, i’ll be on my way again and i’m supposed to believe that it’s okay.
people, however they hardly press themselves upon you that they’ve changed, can not and will always be the same people they deny themselves to be. it’s just that our perspectives on things have changed and the way we look at them has been surprisingly to just mere acceptance of the fact that they’ll always be who they have always been..
no one ever stops wanting but they have to balance what is impossible with what might be possible and try to make sense of their hopes and reality. they haven’t got a lot of hope, it would be unfair if they did. but they do the best with what they have. i mean, we can’t plan everything. life makes its own plans. sometimes we let each down; sometimes we fail each other; sometimes we break each other’s hearts; sometimes we leave. and sometimes we come back and sometimes we stick around. or sometimes it’s okay, even if we don’t. things happen and they are hard, too hard. we just get through them. that we are able. clear eyes, full hearts.
clear eyes. full heart. can’t lose.
And you taught me what this feels like.
And then how it feels to lose it.
And you showed me who I wanted.
And then who I wasn’t.
And you ticked every box.
And then drew a line.
And you weren’t mine to begin with.
And then not to end with.
And you looked like everything I wanted.
And then became something I hated.
And you get thought of every day.
And then not in a good way.
And you let me leave.
And then wish I’d stayed.
And you almost killed me.
But I didn’t die.