Light in my world changed after you were gone. it felt a little darker, maybe everything was more gray. But the yellow you loved so much was always a little brighter than before.

You had a yellow soul. So bright it shone through your eyes. Yes, your eyes were the colour of the damn sky, so fucking bright and hopeful. They stuck out in my world of gray. Hell, you stood out in a world of gray.

You were my yellow.


Every time someone

leaves me

the way you do

a part of my heart

is hardened to stone

 

but I will not let

you

change me to marble

piece by piece

 

living with a heart of stone

is not living.


Your judgement

must be off

my darling

anyone

wanting to

give their

heart to me

clearly

isn’t thinking

straight.


It’s remarkable really, the human faith to trust people with our hearts after they repetitively give us reasons not to. How even after our hearts become battered and bruised over and over again, we still hold them up to people who don’t deserve them as a twisted sacrifice. In the hope they can stitch back together the cuts the left in the first place.


It’s a shame really. This city moves and breathes just as you do; radiating love and energy. But instead you focus on the trash in the gutter and the hard edges of the buildings holding all your corporate fears. It’s easier to hate than to love. Especially when this city seems to leave bruises and cuts along your spine and those hard edges you fear seems to appear everywhere you turn, boxing you in till you’re stuck in the same routine as always. But I promise that though this city may leave scars engraved on your soul, it moves and breathes just as you do, and at its core, radiates love and energy.


She wants to see the world. Part way because she wants to see everything she can, and part way because she’s hoping she’ll find a place no one can touch her like that ever again


“Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.” As I kid used to repeat this to myself when I was getting picked on, to be totally honest, it didn’t help. That statement is a load of bullshit, words emotionally traumatise till there’s no part of you left. They leave the biggest mark and hurt longer than any cut or bruise. So if anyone’s asking, I’d rather have the sticks and stones, thank you very much.


How fun it is to seek out the dangerous beauty in things, even though we know the chase will kill us in the end. Sometimes there’s comfort in knowing what you want is unattainable.


I try my best to see the good in people even when they don’t deserve it. But what breaks my heart is when people who exude light as easily as the sun, see the light in everyone else but themselves. It’s hard to see the best when someone doesn’t deserve it, but it’s even harder to show someone the best in themselves when they don’t believe it could be there.


I pray that one day when someone asks you how you are, and you say “I’m fine” you will realize that you aren’t lying to yourself anymore. That everything really is fine and you don’t have to hide anything from others anymore.


I don’t know about everyone else, but I fear being forgotten more than I do dying. I fear that one day my loved ones will forget that I ever existed. That any memories of me will slowly fade away and that I will no longer be able to make people happy. I will not be famous. I will not live an amazing life they study and break down in history classes. I’m okay with that. I don’t need fame and fortune. I am afraid I will be forgotten in the minds of my loved ones, but I do not fear death.


When you died a little part of me did too. I didn’t want to give. I wanted to shut away all of my memories of you for safekeeping. I had to make sure they didn’t suffer from sun bleaching, scratches, or quarter size holes. I didn’t want to give away the best things that you had ever given me. The best summers I could have asked for.


I have two foolish wishes. A wish to talk to you again. A wish to bring you back. I know both are foolish, yet I make them and pray that you are having more fun up there than I am down here.


(Emulated from The Egg, by Andy Weir)

Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Those acts of kindness are what give you feelings. Mostly good ones, that might give way to darkness every once and a while. But every act of kindness you’ve done has impacted you in a way you might not notice till a few lives from now. When you are sent on your way once again, to try and leave your mark on the world as many times as you can.


We are taught to be okay despite the circumstances. Keeping our negative thoughts and feelings to ourselves. But then they get upset when we didn’t tell them the truth behind our jokes and it’s too late to fix anything with those tiny bandages we call problem solving tools.


Someone pointed out to me that you never really get to see yourself. You might get to see pictures, and a reflection in a mirror, but it’s not the same thing. You don’t get to see the way your body language will change when you see something that you love or hate. You will never be able to see the way your face lights up when you get to talk about something you love. You will never get to see how your face changes when you are laughing, crying, or concentrating on something really hard. Your resting face will be manufactured when you look in the mirror, you won’t see what everyone else does. People call you beautiful because of the quirks and mannerisms that you can’t see in a mirror or a photograph. Honestly, I think it’s sad that we can never see ourselves in entirety. In a world where we would like to change so many things about ourselves, maybe it would help if we could see all the beautiful things about our personality that seem to disappear once the moment is captured on film.


I think the question “What do you want to do when your grow up?” Isn’t a fair question. By asking it you are expecting a, eighteen year old who has only ever had a sheltered version of what life has to offer, to pick something that will decide how their life looks for the rest of their lives. I think a better question to ask people is, “What are your passions?” This opens up the door for teens (and adults) to look at what they actually enjoy doing, so that when it comes to picking a career, they can pick something that mirrors those passions. Even if people don’t know what their passions are, they are being asked something nowhere near as scary. It helps break the question down so the decision doesn’t seem so permanent, and it’s not looked at like a do or die response. Work shouldn’t feel like work, when you are doing something you really love, it won’t feel like a burden.


I think as we go through life it becomes very easy to lose little parts of yourself, especially when you are interacting with others. It’s only after we stop, and take a step back, we can take the time needed to refuel, and find ourselves. We find who we are and pick up the pieces left behind while we live our lives, and explore what the world has to offer.

 

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *