Hey, sweet girl. Just some food for thought tonight. Chances are, you've already learned this one the hard way. It's who you are. When you love someone-- you love all of them, don't you? Who they were, who they are-- and yes, you love that best version of themselves you know they could one day be. And that's the part that gets you, sweet girl. That potential part. And here's the hard lesson: you cannot love that person. You can't. Oh, I know you have. And you may one day try again. But that has heartbreak all over it. And here's why: that is not who they are. That might not even be who they want to be. So you have to stop falling in love with that ghost. That shadow. It's not real, sweet girl. It's just not. Love who they were. Love their scars and bruises and past and insecurities. Love them for who they are. With their faults and quirks and beautiful dreams about what they want in life. And stop there. Encourage them like crazy to chase after what they want. Be proud of them. Give them the fuel and hope and encouragement to be who they want to be. But don't love that person yet, darling. Because one too many hearts has been shattered by falling in love with someone that may never be. You have to love people where they are, not where you think they're going. So do yourself a favor. Learn this one well. Your hand can't be holding who they are-- while your heart falls in love with who they may be. It's not fair to them. And it's not fair to you. So protect your heart, darling. Let your eyes see what's real. And then let your heart fall in love that same thing. Ok? 💛 // March 2017 Theme: No matter what, #ihavelearned
read my interview with @biancabass, where we talk creative integrity amidst commercialization, inspiration + more: http://www.biancabass.com/interviews/a-conversation-with-poet-and-one-woman-movement-melissa-tripp/
quiet time has a knack
for bringing it all out.
the thoughts stir,
the tears fall,
the memories roll like a film reel,
there are times that the shoudas, the wouldas, and the couldas come out to play.
in this quiet moment:
you can choose to ignore it,
painfully shove it all back
through the barbed wire
wrapped around your heart,
you can choose to embrace it,
for everything it has to offer,
take the mess,
wipe the tears,
feel it all,
reflect on why;
why do these moments
make me so overfilled?
and when it's done,
you'll know when it is,
perfectly timed like a kettle,
the steam wears off,
the bell rings,
and you're there
in a gracious silence.
give a silent nod
a small thank you
for the chaos offered
and the moments of clarity
that lie in its wake.
In honour of all the love and support you've shown us, @aayushwrites and @anordinarysoulchasingfireflies, we're so glad to announce a super exciting giveaway!!
We've teamed up with @official.tmff which is hosting India's first ever "Micro Fiction Fan Fest" in Mumbai on April 1 & 2 to give free 2 day access passes to 8 lucky winners!!! ( 4 each to be chosen from our respective ig handles)
Two days of workshops, panel discussions, live performances and so much more. With the likes of the amazingly talented and well known Shamir Reuben, Aastha Atray, Chintan Ruparel, Anuj Gosalia (@ttt_official Co founders ), Gaurav Gera, RJ Malishka and many more, you definitely don't want to miss this chance of a lifetime!
Make sure you are following @aayushwrites and @anordinarysoulchasingfireflies
Follow @official.tmff on instagram, repost this image on your page and tag #themicrofictionfanfestgiveaway ,#anordinarysoulchasingfireflies and #aayushwrites
Tag three friends in the comments below.
We'll pick the lucky winners on the 29th of March. So Hurry!!
From the short story 'Work' by Denis Johnson, in his book Jesus' Son:
"The Vine had no jukebox, but a real stereo continually playing tunes of alcoholic self-pity and sentimental divorce. 'Nurse,' I sobbed. She poured doubles like an angel, right up to the lip of a cocktail glass, no measuring. 'You have a lovely pitching arm.' You had to go down to them like a hummingbird over a blossom. I saw her much later, not too many years ago, and when I smiled she seemed to believe I was making advances. But it was only that I remembered. I'll never forget you. Your husband will beat you with an extension cord and the bus will pull away leaving you standing there in tears, but you were my mother."
✒ I can't begin to tell you how much I wish I'd written that paragraph. Go read the book. Fucking amazing.
>>>> whiskeyandpens coloring book PDF $1.99 on WordPress. Link in bio. <<<<
✒ I'm now on WordPress ——— www.whiskeyandpens.wordpress.com ——— 🎧 a featured poet on Show No. 3 The MJ Poet Show ——— www.mixcloud.com/themjpoetshow ———
I am an optimist disguised as a pessimist
and a romantic in a realist's clothing
my mood swings will feel like waves crashing
but the ferocity of my love will always keep you afloat
I am made up of layers even Mother Nature
so I will not expect you to understand all of my complex simplicities
all I will ever ask of you is this;
on the days I am not easy to love —
will you promise to try anyway? - Emina Gašpar - Vrana
| Patience | Even glow sticks have to be cracked, broken, and shaken before they can shine.
A late post for the prompt "patience" thanks @dropsofstone 💜 These are always fun!
#alparamore | Artist Unknown • WHI |
The closet affair.
You remind me of the smell of old books with its almost burnt pages and like the regrettable and never flattening earmarked edges made ages ago. You're that coarse touch under my fingertips that ripples with musky memories.
You're that baggy, age old tee against my skin I just wouldn't budge off my wardrobe. You're that familiar touch and the favourite punchline on the front that I never grow tired of. You're my favourite perfume wafting off its worn out, frayed fabric.
You're that faded navy jeans I can't seem to throw away. Shredding away, and washed to oblivion, but nothing else I'd rather be comfortable in. Wrapping me in its blunt warmth and crass pattern. You give me the edge but distressed, they call you?