piece by piece we
this time we fight
not for anything
or anyone else
but for our damn selves.
– the aftermath // life after death
Coffee, hope, poetry. I don’t know if I’d read it somewhere, but these three words keep ringing wistfully in my head lately. Perhaps it is because they are representative of the things that tug at my heart the most in this life. Oh would we all be so lucky to have our days filled with drawn out coffee conversations, quiet hope and beautiful poetry that makes sense of it all. What else could one ask for. Perhaps it is the simplest things that mean the most after all.
There are times when life corners you in so, and all you can do is fall on your face before God for help, hoping against hope that He will come through for you. That your tears are not in vain and that there is a God who sees and hears. That, whatever it looks like, your redemption will come.
Please don’t make me wait for too long, I’m so afraid I might let go.
It took me several heartbreaks to finally understand that fighting for love and fighting to be loved were two profoundly different things. Fighting for love is always good, but there is absolutely nothing heroic about the latter. It is not romantic to convince somebody to love you.
I beseech you women, if you ever find yourself pleading for a man to choose you, if you ever find yourself trying to change who you are in order to fit what he wanted, to be prettier, quieter… lesser – turn around and leave. Leave and never look back.
“What are you, fire refusing to be named? I will tell you what you are not.
You are not an afterthought. You are not a magic lamp whose only purpose is to fulfill the desires of another. You are not an oracle or a muse that can be used, exhausted, tapped dry & left convulsing on a mountaintop. You are not a lonely night or a place to hide secrets when no one else is watching. You are not a bodiless voice that whispers comfort to the demons of desperate men, not a vessel from which they can thieve their vitality..
& my God, you are certainly not a second choice.” // Amanda Torroni
Please know when to stay, and when to walk away. Sometimes the line is so thin, and sometimes it takes more than a little while, but you must know it.
– lessons learnt a very hard way.
I’m no longer the same person I used to be. The things that used to tug at my heart with desire seem so meaningless to me now. I no longer dream the same dreams. I want different things now. Value different things. Crave different things.
Is this the hardness of my heart speaking? Or have I just grown up?