“my first thought this morning was ‘i feel okay’. you know what i mean-that moment before you remember who you are and what the actual facts of your life are? my first thought, in my gut, in my body, was ‘i feel okay’. i haven’t felt that in a long time. usually, you know, i open my eyes and i already feel like shit. like in my sleep i was feeling like shit, and waking up was just an extension of that, you know? but this morning, my first thought was ‘i feel okay’. as if my body wasn’t, you know, housing any more sadness.”
— “how to be single” by liz tuccillo (coauthor of “he’s just not that into you”)
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise; If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with triumph and disaster And treat those two imposters just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run - Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And - which is more - you’ll be a Man my son!
Come here, please hold my hand for now Help me, I'm scared please show me how to fight this, God has a master plan And I guess I am in his demand Please save me this time I cannot run And I'll see you when this is done And now I have come to realize That you are the one who's left behind
Please stay until I'm gone I'm here hold on to me I'm right here Waiting
I see, a light it feels good And I'll come back soon just like you would It's useless, my name has made the list And I wish, I gave you one last kiss
Please stay until I'm gone I'm here hold on to me I'm right here Waiting and take My one last breath, and don't forget That I will be right here Waiting
I feel pretty stupid tonight. And taken for granted. I hurt my own feelings. Woe is me; yadda-yadda-yawn. Heh. The universe is just too big to ever really understand context, though — let alone comprehend it — especially since it’s a moving target at that. So, again, it’s probably just an issue of misguided focus. Misguidance. Seems to be a prevailing theme. Ah, well. The world is thick and poignantly silent out my window tonight, and the atmosphere down here has finally collapsed into itself for the season; I love the concentrated density that’s created… it sort of collects us all in a locally acute embrace and I know I’m not the only one that feels it. So for all the temporary hoplessness I’ll sit with this evening, I still have that to play with. It’s a good distraction and keeps my company well.
yeah well i can’t sleep and i’m playing sock wars with a stranger. how’s that for a laugh.
and we’re screwed on the re-blogging. get a helmet.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your hearts longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true, I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!” It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children. It doesn’t interest me who you are, or how you came to be here- I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”
“Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself: “I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today, I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. I have just one day, today and I’m going to be happy in it.”—Groucho Marx (via skysignal)