âWhere have you reached?â
âIn between life & death Completed plenty of years in life just living for others.
What about you where have you reached?â

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@allthingsyoumissed
âWhere have you reached?â
âIn between life & death Completed plenty of years in life just living for others.
What about you where have you reached?â
You don't need another human being to make your life complete, but let's be honest. Having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn't see them as disasters in your soul but cracks to put their love into is the most calming thing in this world.
Iâm often difficult to love. I go through dark periods like the moon and I hide from myself. But I promise I will kiss your wounds when theyâre hurting. Even if theyâre in your soul, I can find them with the light in my fingertips. I will lead you to the river so you can remember how beautiful it feels to be moved by something that is out of your control. And when our dark periods match, we can breathe with the grass and look at the night sky. The stars will remind us of the beauty in our struggles and we wonât feel lost.
You know. I realized that often times in tragedies they say âthe love was there. It didnât change anything. It didnât save anyone. There were just too many forces against it. But love was there.â I suppose it doesnât just take a special kind of Love to get through tragedies and destruction like we have, but rather, it takes two people who choose to have unconditional conviction in their love, choose to have faith that surpasses any fear and an undeniable amount of strength and courage to fight for their âlove that was thereâ. Itâs a choice. Not luck And I choose you. Every minute of everyday. No matter how hard things get, Iâll always choose you. Iâll always fight to keep our love alive. Iâll never let anything take that away from us.
Life after the storm
How is it that when we start settling into life after the storm we focus on routine, workouts, office, food timings but somehow, somehow...we forget and stop doing all the things that got us through the storm?
How is it that the moment weâre out of the storm we start looking for people, the known faces, the daily texts, the âclose friendsâ, the going out. But somehow, somehow...we leave behind the only person who held our hand and got us out of the storm?
People say falling in love feels like a fairytale
but they fail to tell you the truth about what itâs like toÂ
be abandoned mid fall -
no one there to catch you, left to be deserted
in the dust with your dying desires
You see, falling in love is far from a fairytale
and what they donât tell you
is that the fall fractures more than just your bones
It flatlines your heart.
You know youâve found the right person when they love you when you are sad. Theyâve seen you at your worst and they donât run away. They wonât even mention that youâre telling them the same story for the third time today. They listen every time like itâs the first. They hug you quietly when you canât express the messiness of your mind in coherent thoughts. They stay. In a world where people run away at the first sight of struggle, find the one who stays. Theyâre the keeper that keeps your heart safe.
It is a ceremony, the blowing of candles, the cutting of cake - the mess of cream and sponge in your mouth. The taste is sweet and familiar, like a newly formed wish, fashioned from all the ones youâve made before.
You donât remember them in sequence - the things you ask for. You only recall those you wanted the most. Like the pastel pink fluffy dress, you saw in the shop window when you were eight. How deeply you felt its absence when you sat among the litter of torn wrapping paper and empty new possessions at midnight. But then your angel of a mother turned that around and your happiness knew no bounds when you found it at your bedside the next morning and walked into your fairytale themed surprise party looking like a pink ball of fairy dust.
Or the year you turned ten; when your favorite person in the world got really sick, and all you wanted was for him to be okay again. It was the year you learned that shooting stars were either a blessing or a curse, depending on what you wanted to believe.
Then there was that year you fell in love. The one where there werenât any candles - just you walking late at night through the city streets with your heart in pieces, wanting to give yourself to the first stranger who called you beautiful.
Since then itâs been the same every year. As soon as the first match is struck, the smell of burning takes you backwards through your memory. It fills your heart up with both, happiness and sorrow. The same will happen every year now on. But now the flashing of memories will stop. It stops you right at that moment on that warm, October night, as you watched the first trickle of melting wax hit the icing, and you couldnât think of a single damn thing you wanted - because you felt him standing there, in the flickering light, asking you to make a wish.
Hold space for
a love that
does not
require the
translation of
your soul
She could love the riot in my heart,
on days when darkness is trapped in
my soul
and a sudden urge of loneliness
erupts within.
And in the middle of chaos
I always found her.
Dancing like a star, giving me strength
She was my home.
Time stopped when we connected. It was as though my soul remembered an ancient song I had carried with me all along - I had forgotten all the words but still, Iâd recognize it anywhere. Any time, any place, any lifetime.
Connecting with you sparked a fire within me that was bound to destroy everything about this life I had created from fear, lack, or to meet the ever-changing expectations of a broken world and broken people. I wasnât ready for you and I never would be. But thatâs just the thing - twin flames do not meet when they are ready, but when it is time.
What we have, simply is. It canât be explained because few ever experience it and those who do rarely attempt to describe it.
The words havenât been created to describe a love that lights your soul on fire and pulls you out of the Earthâs orbit as though gravity is nothing. That renders you powerless and limitless at the same time. That knows you so intensely, you realize how much of yourself youâve forgotten.
You're the bottom of my ocean.
The surface - filled with the crashing waves, the raging wind, the chatter of birds and the relentless pull of the moon. The high tides and the low tides. All the chaos and noise. But then you get to the bottom of the ocean and everything is still. The chaos turns into calm and the noise turns into peace. Nothing shakes the bottom of the ocean. Nothing changes it. No matter what happens on the surface, the bottom of the ocean remains unchanged, unwavering. The safest place.
Youâre the bottom of my ocean.
Feel Like Me
When it comes to love,
itâs not always about
how you feel about that person;
itâs about how that person
makes you feel about yourself.
You make me feel like me
And if thereâs something
that Iâve learnt from
this Year, itâs this:
When you truly love
something, you choose it
over anything, no matter
what the world will say
to make you look the
other way, you choose it
and you choose it
ferociously
And then you see where life
will take you from there..
I find more love
in a storm with you
than a thousand sunny days without.
Never too late
Most of all, I hope you learn how to let go of the idea that itâs too late. It is never too late to change your life. It is never too late to become the person you have always hoped you could be, or to love the way you have always wanted to love. We often forget that we are not bound by our past. We donât have to be who we were a year ago, we donât have to make the same mistakes we did when we were younger; we can want different things, we can grow. We have to believe that we are never too old, never too jaded, and never too broken to take our first steps towards change. We wake up every single day with the ability to start fresh â it is never too late to take advantage of that. It is never too late.
I choose to love you in silence because in silence I find no rejection, and in silence no one owns you but me.
Rumi