Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you.
Walt Whitman

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@danjessaielle
Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you.
Walt Whitman
"I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists; the reality of everything."
― Virginia Woolf, Night and Day
I am tired of writing poems about people who hurt me. I’m tired of writing poems about being traumatised and angry. I’m tired of the way everything feels like a cage these days and I wish exhaustion with loneliness wasn’t the reason why some people fall in love, but we are all tired of not being held, afraid of being alone, we all want someone to look at us like we are the sun, we all wish that when someone kisses us they do not see our tired souls but the moon in our eyes. I’m trying to do better. I’m trying to want myself in a way where I feel I do not need the love of others. Most days, I fail at this. Most days I lie there holding onto love’s tender hands and pretend it is healing to do that. I try to see myself the way I wish someone else would. Like I am beautiful. Like I am enough.
Nikita Gill
“Junkies fall in love with other Junkies or they turn somebody they love into one.”
What Lot's Wife Would Have Said (If She Wasn't A Pillar of Salt) / Karen Finneyfrock
Do you remember when we met in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless, and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing you, when we were young, and blushed with youth like bruised fruit. Did we care then what our neighbors did in the dark? When our first daughter was born on the River Jordan, when our second cracked her pink head from my body like a promise, did we worry what our friends might be doing with their tongues? What new crevices they found to lick love into or strange flesh to push pleasure from, when we called them Sodomites then, all we meant by it was neighbor. When the angels told us to run from the city, I went with you, but even the angels knew that women always look back. Let me describe for you, Lot, what your city looked like burning since you never turned around to see it. Sulfur ran its sticky fingers over the skin of our countrymen. It smelled like burning hair and rancid eggs. I watched as our friends pulled chunks of brimstone from their faces. Is any form of loving this indecent? Cover your eyes tight, husband, until you see stars, convince yourself you are looking at Heaven. Because any man weak enough to hide his eyes while his neighbors are punished for the way they love deserves a vengeful god. I would say these things to you now, Lot, but an ocean has dried itself on my tongue. So instead I will stand here, while my body blows itself grain by grain back over the Land of Canaan. I will stand here and I will watch you run.
Addiction.
Cigarettes make you calm.
Alcohol makes you forget.
Drugs make you happy.
Starving makes you proud.
Sex makes you feel loved.
Self-harm makes you numb.
Sleep makes you stop feeling.
We’re all addicted to something that takes the pain away.
What Lot's Wife Would Have Said (If She Wasn't A Pillar of Salt) / Karen Finneyfrock
Do you remember when we met in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless, and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing you, when we were young, and blushed with youth like bruised fruit. Did we care then what our neighbors did in the dark? When our first daughter was born on the River Jordan, when our second cracked her pink head from my body like a promise, did we worry what our friends might be doing with their tongues? What new crevices they found to lick love into or strange flesh to push pleasure from, when we called them Sodomites then, all we meant by it was neighbor. When the angels told us to run from the city, I went with you, but even the angels knew that women always look back. Let me describe for you, Lot, what your city looked like burning since you never turned around to see it. Sulfur ran its sticky fingers over the skin of our countrymen. It smelled like burning hair and rancid eggs. I watched as our friends pulled chunks of brimstone from their faces. Is any form of loving this indecent? Cover your eyes tight, husband, until you see stars, convince yourself you are looking at Heaven. Because any man weak enough to hide his eyes while his neighbors are punished for the way they love deserves a vengeful god. I would say these things to you now, Lot, but an ocean has dried itself on my tongue. So instead I will stand here, while my body blows itself grain by grain back over the Land of Canaan. I will stand here and I will watch you run.
“i. Let’s talk about Eve. Let’s talk about her nakedness. Let’s talk about how she got tricked by something Adam named, there is power in names. Perhaps if he had called it a rabbit instead of a serpent, none of this would have happened. Let’s talk about how she offered him the fruit. ii. Let’s talk about Pandora. Let’s talk about how beautiful she was. Let’s talk about how much she loved her husband and how she loved curiosity more. Let’s talk about how she got tricked too. Let’s talk about how she released everything except hope. iii. Let’s talk about her. Let’s talk about her ocean blue eyes and her honey spun hair and her olive skin. Let’s talk about how she got warned about you. Let’s talk about how you burned her until her flesh evaporated. Let’s talk about how she reformed into a spear that ripped you from your toes to your temples. iv. Let’s talk about me. Let’s talk about how I didn’t know you were the forbidden fruit or the forbidden pithos or the raging inferno. Let’s talk about how you dressed up in wings and a robe and called yourself an archangel. Let’s talk about your flaming sword of vengeance. v. Let’s talk about you now. Let’s talk about how your sword is actually a plastic torch that really, wouldn’t even make a good lightsaber. Let’s talk about your hands. Let’s talk about your legs. Let’s talk about your throat. I thought I knew everything about you, but I missed out something. I forgot to taste the forbidden. I forgot to cut your heart out of your chest and take a bite. I forgot. Let’s talk about that.”
— I think we need to talk, v.g
“But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human.”
— Kurt Vonnegut
“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.”
— Charles Bukowski
Book of the day: Night Road by Kristin Hannah
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Book of the day: The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
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Not everyone deserves your friendship, or your care, or your heart or your love. And some don’t even deserve the words that explain why you’re taking it all back. Even if they deserved your heart and your respect before, it doesn’t entitle them to it forever. Sometimes you have to adjust your behavior based on another’s, even if you were willing to provide that love unconditionally before.
allymimosa (via wnq-writers)
Don’t mistake my silence for acceptance. I am trying my very best to rise up so I don’t unleash a worse you upon you. Not because you deserve my kindness, but because I deserve mine.
wtfelicia (via wnq-writers)