@wordgodmother - Tumblr Blog

"The bare minimum should disgust you", It does. It does disgust me-how love-deprived I am to put basic decency on a pedestal. But someone who's starving doesn't know what's edible and what's poison. A starving person will take anything. They'll mistake breadcrumbs for a banquet, a passing glance for affection, and silence for peace. Because when you've never known real love, even cruelty wrapped in attention feels like safety. And it's humiliating, how deep the hunger goes, how easily it fools you into gratitude for scraps.

A part of being an adult is living with regret and not allowing it to consume you. The older you get, the more mistakes you've made, opportunities you've missed, people you've disappointed. And every day you have to remind yourself to be kind and forgiving of yourself. You accept and love the you from the past and understand that it's all a part of the process. Then you move on and live your best life, knowing now as old as you feel today, you'll never be this young again.

this is so embarrassing. i want to love & be loved & drink really nice tea & eat really nice pasta & not feel like the loneliness is a part of me anymore. i want a herb garden

here is your gentle reminder that there are dandelions growing through cracks in the sidewalk. there is a fence lizard on the porch who is growing a new tail. there are trees growing through an abandoned house, branches tearing through the ceiling, ferns carpeting the floor. there is life pushing forward, pushing through.

all your stuffed animals love you. they're not sad if they're in a box, or on the floor, or not held/played with as much. they understand. they know that you might need another stuffie more, or that you don't have enough space. they're just happy to be with you, and if you ever give them away, they'll be happy there too. stuffies are for comfort. they understand. they love you too. it's okay.

i like to pretend i already died and asked god to send me back to earth so i can swim in lakes again and see mountains and get my heart broken and love my friends and cry so hard in the bathroom and go grocery shopping 1,000 more times. and that i promised i would never forget the miracle of being here🥺

we're gonna be ok btw

it's ok if you're scared. or tired. or unsure. or one million billion other complicated emotions at once. but i've decided things are going to be ok anyway. and i will hold that belief close to my heart no matter how scared or tired or lonely or depressed or one million billion other things i am. i will hold onto that. and if you're scared, you can hold onto me. we can carry each other through.

i want to be so kind it echoes backwards in time and undoes the things that hurt you. i want to be so kind it radiates from me. i want to be so kind that i make someone else find faith in humanity again. there's not much i can do, i'm small and weak and i only know so many words. but i know i can be kind. and sometimes, i believe, that changes the world.

I love saying "of course" instead of "you're welcome," like of course I'm helping you that's what I do, you were foolish to even consider an alternate dimension in which I'm not helping you. you idiot. you absolute buffoon.

why must we network, isn't my kindness and willingness to try to be better everyday enough?

at times when hope is too big of a thing to have, curiosity (even clinical or small) is a very good placeholder

asking myself "why continue" & finding the answer is always, in some form, "i want to know what happens next", even if that want is tired or detached or outright morbid

despite everything.... I'm grateful I got a chance to be alive... to experience love and good food and sunsets. isn't that the point of it all really

you ever know someone and you think "god i love you. i wish we could've known each other when we were carefree and 12. i wish we could've played together as kids"

my childhood is so far away and it's ancient history but also it was just yesterday. i am both an adult and i turned 5 years old today. the past is the past but it is also the present and it chokes me with everything i do remember and everything that i don't know. i walk into the bathroom and i see a child staring back and they are crying. i'm crying too.

Sometimes I think I want to be understood more than I want to be loved. Just about anyone will love you if you're around them long enough. And as nice as it sounds, sometimes I don't think I want to hear another, "I love you". I hear it enough thrown absently into goodbyes and see it crammed into birthday wishes. More than anything, I know I don't want to be handed some casual endearing phrase, emptied and tasteless. No. This is what I want-1 want to crawl inside someone's skin, beneath their ribs, and hold their beating heart in my palms. I want to nestle inside them, like a child by a winter's fireside, like two beings soaking in sweat and tangled in sheets, against a fluttering pulse. What I want is, "Don't be afraid, there is no shame. Let me see you, and be seen. Let me see you and stay. What I want is, "Oh, you are wretched and glorious and so am L. Let's chase the sun while it still burns for us". Anyone can, and will, love you if you let them. For once, I want one of the very few who will take on the righteous duty and courage to understand and be understood in return. To be loved is to be held. But to be understood is to be unveiled.

if i got possessed demonically i wouldn't notice it. with everything else i've got going on

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