"breathe in. breathe out. do you feel the pull on your lungs? do you feel the ice in your chest? does your heart feel as if it might crack with the weight of feeling and loving and longing and losing and trying and being? do you grow weary of the fragmented shards of glass you are holding in bloody palms? are you tired of feeling broken?
don't be ashamed. we all are. i am.
but pain reminds us that we're alive; that we still have something to fight for, that we still have someone to love; that we still have someone who loves us. pain is there to drive us forward; to push us onward, to remind us that we're not lost, that the ache we feel might be the end of something we once loved and the beginning of something we will learn to love.
pain is difficult to understand, hard to bear, impossible to avoid. but if there was no rain, there would be no rainbows. if the earth never disappeared in darkness, there would be no sunrise.
and if there was no pain, how would be learn to appreciate beauty? embrace it. learn from it. let it change you, make you stronger, increase your will to fight. everything has a purpose. sometimes we just have to wait a while to see it." // (via instagram) // i wrote this yesterday on the spur of a moment, and when the words stopped flowing, i realized how long it had been since i'd sat down and simply wrote whatever came to mind. it's been a while. again. and this time, i'm not making any promises of future posts, or new poetry, or tales of my (extraordinarily ordinary, unexciting) life, but i have missed this place more than i thought possible, and all the people that are connected to it. i've missed the honest words, and the aching poetry and the raw, messy stories that i used to spend hours reading.
i want to get back to it. being here, reading my old poems, cringing at my poorly worded sentences, laughing over my attempts to be "cool"... it reminds me of when things were simpler; when life was straightforward, and people were open and honest and we all knew what we wanted to do, and where we wanted to go and how we were going to get there. at least, we thought we did. but part of the beauty and bittersweet novelty was in that innocence; in those impossible, glorious dreams.
no one ever told me growing up would look like this. no one told me it would hold so many questions in the form of people you've known all your life, or a time that was once looked on with fondness, or a circumstance that is somehow unfamiliar in its sameness.
nothing has changed with me. nothing exciting, or life altering, at least. i'm currently writing a novel, trying to find a part time job, playing music and reading as many good books as i can cram in, and life is ordinary and slow and tiring and beautiful and full of hope and promise. this growing up thing is terrifying, eh? exciting, but terrifying, and i guess i'm muddling through it as best i can.