Fact: you can never know another person completely.
Fact: you are born alone and die alone.
Fact: there si no such thing as safety. Only vigilance, determination to survive, and a willingness to be ruthless about it.
Fact: love is not perfect.
Fact: neither am I.
But with the right person, everything will align perfectly. The world stops turning on its axis, time slows and you realize that while you're losing a piece of yourself, you're also gaining something in return. What they give you fits you just right.
Tomorrow, I'll accept that in order to unravel my story, I'll be destroyed first. Like the frozen water drop, its inevitable that I break.
Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound’s the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep.
"I don’t know where dreams come from. Sometimes I wonder if they’re genetic memories, or messages from something divine. Warnings perhaps. Maybe we do come with an instruction booklet but we’re too dense to read it, because we’ve dismissed it as the irrational waste product of the ‘rational’ mind. Sometimes I think all the answers we need are buried in our slumbering subconscious, int he dreaming. The booklet right there, and ever night when we lay our heads down on the pillow it flips open. The wise read it, heed it. The rest of us try as hard as we can upon awakening to forget any disturbing revelations we might have found there."
Conception
She laid herself down in the velvet
of dark, the thing chirps of crickets
in the field outside the window,
the window he had opened,
the window he believed in.
When he lay down beside her,
the boy whispers truths
into the palm of her hand.
Do not leave, he said.
Do not go. Never cut me
out; if you do you'll feel
a sadness true as the trees.
He kissed her lifeline
and sealed his secrets there.
Emily Beam, March 16, 1995
"Love isn't something you find everyday. Finding someone that makes you laugh and cry and fret and smile, someone who can make you happy is rare. Like, really rare. It can happen a couple of times, or only once in your life, or even never."
"She'd just chill out and read. She'd brought along a promising novel and she'd sit on her balcony with the view of the sea and sink into the story. Sink deep and lose herself in someone else's life. Characters in novels tend to have adventures that ended happily. It gave her hope."
For the first time in my life had been beautiful, and lovable, whether Potshead people thought so or not. I felt cleansed of the rage and misery that had made up so much of me in pettier company, in prettier. I felt freed to please myself, to find my way as I would, in a world that was much vaster than I had realized before, in which I was put one star-gleam, one wavelet, among multitudes. My happiness mattered not a whit more than the next person’s – or the next fish’s, or the next grass-blade’s! – and not a whit less. How piddling I was, in the general immensity! And how lovely it was to be tiny and alone, to have quickened to living for a moment here, to be destined soon to blink out and let time wash away all the mark and remembrance of me.and the second one..
All the years to come crowded into that time, and I lived them, long and bitter and empty of him. The rightness of what I had done, and the wrongness both, they tore at me, and repaired me, and tore again, and neither of them was bearable.I hope that you'll discover Margo's beautiful style sometime soon.
I like to think that nothing's final, and that everyone gets to be together even when it looks like they don't, that it all works out even when all the evidence seems to say something else, that you and I are always young in the woods, and that I'll see you sometime again, even if it's not with any kind of eyes I know of or understand. I wouldn't be surprised if that is the way things go after all - that all things end happy.
Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.Another oneYou don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world...but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices.
I can't stop myself
As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.
One more
Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.
Now you should go and read the book.Until the next time,
So, I guess we are who we are for alot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.
Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody.
It's just that I don't want to be somebody's crush. If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don't want them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it too.Until the next time,
Circumstances shape who we are and who we become. I believe that. But I also believe we have choices. There are always choices.
Your parents may have created you, but they don't define you.
Maybe, just maybe, a reader would feel a little less alone in the world.
