Asbcissionco

Constantly craving something.

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I’m gona to love myself this winter. 


I’m gona to charm myself.


I’m gona to treat her like I would treat someone who I want.


Someone I need. Someone I want to get to know.


Someone I couldn’t stand not to know. 

I”ll know what she loves. What makes her laugh. What makes her cry…


I”ll be proud of her. I”ll cheer her on. I”ll be tough on her when she needs it. I’ll love her flaws and hope that she overcomes them. I’ll support her through that struggle. I’ll love her through all struggles. I’ll love what she is capable of. I’ll love the people who love her. I’ll appreciate them loving her like I do. I’ll be patient and appreciate their patience. 

I wana to spend the nights appreciating the grace of her hands, and the trim lines of her ankles. I wana to drink wine with her, and enjoy her favorite things. I wana to make new memories with her, loving her. I’ll challenge her understanding of the world. I’ll help her become a true storyteller. We together, will tell a story that must be told. 

I’ll discover a new world, loving her. I’ll discover a new way to love. I’ll discover a new way to live. Loving her. I’ve been with her for nearly 30 years, and I’ve finally found her, seen her fear, her possibility and potential. Seen all the love she can give to me, loving me. She has been beside me this whole time, and I had no idea that I could love her as much as I do. 

I’ll love her. I must love her. I can love her. 


I’ll love her like she’s never been loved before. 

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Falling isnt so bad you know. You can always stand up a little wiser. You can look back, briefly, and learn not to step right into the bullshit, cause it makes the landing much messier. Step around the shit, move forward. 

Falling isnt bad, because you get to take a breath then get up.

Falling’s only bad when you know that you could break this time, maybe shatter.

Falling is only bad when you expect someone to catch you. Trust fall?


Don’t look for the person who will break your fall. Look for the person who fell next to you, you can get up together. 

Fuck Falling.

Fall only for the chance to stand up taller, straighter, stronger, together.

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When it gets hard -

Don’t get lost, I tell myself. Just pick up your knees and push. Push a little bit farther, a little bit harder. Don’t push other’s it’s not nice. Don’t push your heart, it won’t heal as fast. Push deeper, though. You could love again.

Remember how lovely it is to be looked at like you’re brand new to someone? Remember looking at someone and feeling the wanting familiarity that comes with holding someone’s face lightly between your palms and kissing them. Above the right eyebrow, scattering kisses across the bridge of their nose. On to their lips. Taste. Remember feeling the hair on the back of their neck against your fingertips for the first time, your how their shoulders square off towards yours and you feel content?

Remember car rides? Well, imagine new ones, and they squeeze your knee, or take your hand and kiss the back near your knuckles. Think about reaching out and brushing the fingers of your left hand against their ear. Sit back, and trust them to drive you where you need to be.

Think about a kitchen table where you share your mornings, and maybe nights. Think about your legs and feet brushing theirs. Think about lazy morning kisses, hand holding. Hugs. Think about the new ones you’ll share. Push yourself to think new, not compare to old. Think about what will make their day better. Your day better. Your day collectively better.

Remember yoga at first, how you felt weak, detached, immovable, always trying to catch your breath? Well, that’s not you anymore, you are constantly focusing yourself for the next move, the next pose trusting that the sequence will play out, that eventually after deepening, lifting, trusting, a bit of a challenge you feel exhausted. Eventually you will lay still, quite, motionless, content.

Eventually love will come again, you’re deepening though, the way you think, feel, the way you exist. Always learn more, challenge more, live more. Don’t get lost. Push, baby. Push. Your effort, that your result only need to effect you. Make yourself proud. Hold yourself to your standard. Don’t brag, explain. Let your passion show your liveliness.

And don’t forget to savor the stretch, don’t forget to savor the kiss, don’t forget through the struggle, it’s a beautiful thing called existing. Revel at the moon, dance or run till your legs tire. Do deep, go fully. Trust yourself. Share that passion for the outer world with someone else. Don’t forget to fill every crack, crevice, hole in your heart… with affection, respect and love for yourself and the people who have made and continue to make you.

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For me -

It was like the lightning that strikes behind you, or just out of your sight. 
It was miracle of the worst kind that we didn’t turn to ash. 

I heard once, and never cared to educate or correct myself, that when you get struck by lightning there’s an entrance wound, like a scar, or tattoo. Then an exit one as well. The top of your head, and the bottom of your foot.

I think you gave me one. Or, am I hopeful in thinking that the days we each were born the mark happened upon each of us. This unseen wound. 

Didn’t Plato say that people were once born complete with four arms, four legs, one head with two faces and then torn asunder by Zeus because we became too powerful, too proud? Didn’t the other gods wanted to destroy this type of humanity we had become?

 I think Plato said that the men were children of the sun, the women were children of the earth. Is that why we’re the fertile one’s? Why my body is seemingly built for pleasures of the earth? Is that why I burn so easily near the sun? Why I crave to look upon my soulmate with a tilted back head, mayhaps slightly shielding myself from the overpowering energy, strength and life?

We were so miserable, apart, these festering wounds exposed that Apollo took pity on us and sewed us back into a semblance of function, with a most noticeable seam; our belly buttons. 

I remember I was 8 when I first read a book on greek mythology, to imagine my brain soaking it all up. I was a fantastic 8 year old, I thought nothing of the dangers or uncomfort of diving head long into a field of tall grass unkept and uncut and laying there for hours on end. I thought nothing of attempting a back flip and breaking my finger. I thought nothing of chipping my tooth on the bar of a bicycle that belonged to my sister. 

I remember people telling me I had a beautiful wide smile. I remember admiring the dimples on my face. I remember staring at adults and not really being sure how I would get from where I was to were I currently am. 

Pure terror would stab the heart of a younger me, however proud that I’ve managed to hold onto that part of me that still believes in greek mythology. If only why it describes this ache in me, this misery. That only hurts sometimes. That only aches in despair when I’m most aware of who I am. Because as I learn who I am, each scrape, and tear. Every triumph. Fuck, I just hope my other half is bouncing back, reflecting, trying just as hard. 

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From a favorite book -

“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”

― Louis de Bernières, Corelli's Mandolin

A positive love quote about two people who at first had the mad kind of love which erupts like a volcano but this kind of love, with butterflies in ones stomach, that doesn't last forever and that's true, (this man is telling his daughter or his son) ''your mom and I had this kind of relationship'' where we grew together and became so close as if we were one. ''

Meaning in their love for each other they completed one another. The eternal passion that's not what love is about.. Love is what is left when two people have been through good and bad times together and through that experience have grown so close that are no longer two but one. That is what everybody should strive for in the end, because those who can achieve a marriage like that, they know what true love is.. this is not painting love in a pessimistical way, this speaks about true and enduring real love after the butterflies stop and after the passion of first love stops and your heart no longer skips a beat when you see the girl or the guy you romantically fell in love with.. but this love is forever...those who can find this kind of love will never part from each other..the type we all dream of.

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Sometimes it hurts. Just growing up. Changing, growing. No longer are you the person you were yesterday because the nights changed you. The days changed you. All the guarantees in life become marks on a timeline instead of moments. We all get broken hearts, nights where the queazy fulfillment of alcohol turns to morning headaches and squinting eyes at the sun. We all punch our pillows until we fall silent, our muscles worked to exhaustion.

We all wake up and stumble, barefoot to the daylight readying ourselves for our day. We interact with merchants, and sellers. We all see the advertisements that tell us what to be, what to buy. Some of us fall victim, some of us continue on.

We all sigh heavily at the disappointment of the day. Or throw back our heads and laugh at the glory. We all kick off our shoes. Most, if not all, take moments to scroll through captured words, moments and memories that helps us get over the day, or cherish it.

Sometimes, you get pushed. Beaten. Sometimes you get lifted, celebrated, cherished.

Most times you just get up and do what you need to do. Even though it hurts. Because one day it’s not going to hurt as bad. One day you will wake up, after all the hard work, and realize the person you changed into isn’t someone different but just more… well you.

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