The Mirror To My Soul

Read the Printed Word!

Relationship goals.

“Touch me without using your hands.”

—   Six Word Story // heartofthebitter-mindofapoet  (via perfect)

(Source: heartofthebitter-mindofapoet, via the-white-cracker)

marleens-diary:

And I understand. I understand why people hold hands: I’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying ‘This is mine’. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about “I want you with me” and “don’t go”.

marleens-diary:

And I understand. I understand why people hold hands: I’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying ‘This is mine’. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about “I want you with me” and “don’t go”.

(via carolinemartz)

Life goals.

(Source: shaeried, via cinnamonpretzels)

"I’ll tell the world that we finally got it all right."

Some of us go our whole lives searching for that person that we can wake up to. We look for that person who will take up the most room in our hearts. We are searching for a way to find people who will stay.

"I choose you."

Along the way, we find people who are willing to say these words to us. They’re willing to jump over the hurdles in front of them to find their way back to us, some way, somehow. They want to.

"I will become yours and you will become mine."

We’re looking to find people who will become ours, and us, theirs. We’re looking for the person we fit with at night. We’re looking for more than a friend who will fill us with laughter and happiness, someone unlike anyone who came before them.

"I choose you."

We want to be chosen. We want to be able to choose them. If they’re hundreds of miles between us, we know they will make us feel all of the things that we would feel if they were right next to us.

"As long as it takes, I will prove my love to you."

It’s funny, really. We’re searching to prove ourselves to someone who will accept us, someone who knows we’ve suffered in life and they don’t try to change that. They accept it.

"I get to be the other half of you."

We want someone who will be the other half of us. I want that, too.

But what I want to be able to do is mutter all of these things to myself first. I want to wake up and look in the mirror and be happy with the person that I am, the person that I am becoming. I want to be able to say to myself,

"I choose you."

Re-posting for how relevant it is in terms of today.

Here’s some very good news.

Right here, right now, in this moment, you don’t have to ‘figure out’ the rest of your life, no matter what anyone says.

You don’t need all the answers. They will come, in time, or not, or perhaps the unncecessary questions will fall away.

There is no rush. Life is not in a hurry. Be like the seasons. Winter is not trying to become summer. Spring does not rush towards autumn. The grass grows at its own pace.

The choices that will be made will be made, and you’ve no choice about that. The decisions that will happen will happen, events will unfold, but right now perhaps you don’t need to know the solutions or the outcomes or how best to proceed. Perhaps not knowing is a welcome guest at life’s banquet. Perhaps openness to possibility is a beloved friend. Perhaps even confusion can come to rest here.

And so, instead of trying to ‘fix’ our lives, instead of trying to neatly resolve the unresolveable and quickly complete the epic story of a fictitious ‘me’, we simply relax into utter not knowing, unravelling in the warm embrace of mystery, sinking deeply into the moment, savouring it fully, in all its uniqueness and wonder.

And then, perhaps without any effort, without any struggle or stress, without ‘you’ being involved at all, the true answers will emerge in their own sweet time.

My house when I grow up.

Mentally exhausted.

Jeff Pianki - Missing Parts

listening-weird:

Missing Parts // Jeff Pianki

This will always be one of my favorites, especially in the fall when the impending winter brings forth thoughts of frigid bitterness.

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”

—   Kait Rokowski (via writingsforwinter)

(via englishmajorinrepair)