It is impossible to say why we love something or someone. We can come up with reasons, if we have to, but the important part happens in the dark, beyond our control. We just know when it is there.And when it goes away.// John Ajvide //
a). she was the moon. only a quarter of her pale face revealed the myriads of starry thoughts {hopeless of being formed into constellations} that streaked across her nocturnal mind.
b). the rest of her was an ocean, ebbing with tides of words and thoughts and dreams and other worlds. always waiting readily to slip out like sharp shards of sunlight across the crannied walls. always at bay to spill over.
her eyes dipped into other worlds where the only compliment she'd genuinely receive, is that you loved how she thought, not how she looked. (it gave her hope that there was some beauty amidst the tangled mess of her mind).
c). because that other three fourths were her own monster - were her ghosts. it was a constant battlefield.
d). her mind was the chaos where the ocean tossed a stormy sky.
she was a paradox. the screaming wind soothed her best on lonely nights. the love she craved was what she ran from. "to the moon and back" was too short of a distance for everlasting love. she was good at making friends, yet bad at keeping them. and behind her carelessness and translucency, was someone always too afraid of loosing anyone she ever decided was worth loving.
e). that other three fourths terrified her half to death more than anybody would ever know.
because one night, her poetry would permanently stain her fingertips black. one day, her words might tumble out ungracefully and sear scars on her palms - or worse yet, on you. one day, she would reveal the scream that had been nurtured in the silence - the plea to be brave. one day she would paint the mountains with echoes, reverberating how much and how deeply she loved. one day that ocean would tumble and crash. every drop of salt water would spill over.
| as the years waned on, she was made worn by people changing at every fluctuation - every wisp o' the wind...
she was tired of growing accustomed to that silent little ache in her lungs
during the frightful time she had in seeking people {instead of waiting to be found, that is}
- and in the end, having to re-learn how to let people go all over again.
but if there's if there was anything you could have told her - anything that could have calmed that raging ocean in her would be this:
tell her to keep loving. to never give up. to love fiercely, openly, and bravely.
because in the end, that was the only remedy for love.
and while it may take a bitter palm-full of saltwater courage to love once,
it took a raging ocean
to love again.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
i have such a difficult time, as i crave to write so much about love and friendship and aliveness and loneliness and bravery alike - and about how much people mean to me.
but mostly about how every time i turn around, i feel like i've chased them off.
and all the prose and stringing of words that somehow tumble in my head never can fully describe any of these emotions well enough to keep people from leaving.
so here's a tribute - a tip of the hat - to the introverts and extroverts alike. the tongue-biters & the wallflowers. the tender-hearted who were never received the applause they deserved by simply being there. the ones who give without expecting. the unrequited lovers. the broken hearted who were lucky enough to have loved at one point. and the vivacious, optimistic chasers of light. the ones who are only hiding behind their insecurities and the unmissable passionate lovers of people and life alike.
you are all created by an Almighty God who loves you deeper than the currents and tides and oceans that rage inside of you. and only because He first loved us, are we capable of loving others harder than any pain we may have felt before.
here's a mixtape for you.
resonating with: this and this and this.
