It feels like the world only considers a woman to be a woman when she has turned herself inside out giving and giving and giving and giving. And even then, even at the end, it does not thank her. It simply chides her for not having more to give.
Humans are bad at most things. Love, relationships, parenting, holding ourselves together, being dependable. But there is one thing we are so good at, that we are in fact, spectacular at it. We are all so damned good at being broken open. It’s how the light gets out. It’s how we know it’s there. Because once in a while, someone comes along who tells us life is so much more than just existing. Someone comes along to remind us, to stop being so small and so human. And do better by being so much more.
in a language that doesn’t have the word ‘love’ I say “I still have the receipt from the film we watched on our first date” I say “I bought four red sweaters after you told me it was your favorite color” I say “it’s been exactly two hundred and twelve days since our last kiss” I say “last week, in a hotel room, the complementary pantene shampoo was the type that you use” I say “I walked around smelling like you and nobody else cried over it” I say “yes, I’m still crying over it” I say “the other day somebody’s ringtone went off in class and it was the same noise you set for your alarm and it took me a minute to figure out where I knew it from” I say “I’m terrified of someday not knowing where I knew it from”...
this format was made by partie! please only use this for your QUOTES on WITTYPROFILES.COM and do not remove ANY part of the credit; that includes this credit right here and any credit that follows (c) partie there’s a boy here in town, says he’ll love me forever. who would’ve thought forever could be severed by the sharp knife of a short life?
this format was made by partie! please only use this for your QUOTES on WITTYPROFILES.COM and do not remove ANY part of the credit; that includes this credit right here and any credit that follows (c) partie i don’t know what i’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you.
“when it came to listening my mother taught me silence if you are drowning their voice with yours how will you hear them she asked when it came to speaking she said do it with commitment every word you say is your own responsibility when it came to being she said be tender and tough at once you need to be vulnerable to live fully but rough enough to survive it all when it came to choosing she asked me to be thankful for the choices i had that she never had the privilege of making” — lessons from mumma
this format was made by partie! please only use this for your QUOTES on WITTYPROFILES.COM and do not remove ANY part of the credit; that includes this credit right here and any credit that follows (c) partie cruel mothers are still mothers. they make us wars. they make us revolution. they teach us the truth. early. mothers are humans. who sometimes give birth to their pain. instead of children.
‘as you are.’ says the universe. ‘after...’ you answer. ‘as you are.’ says the universe. ‘before...’ you answer. ‘as you are.’ says the universe. ‘when...’ you answer. ‘as you are.’ says the universe. ‘how...’ you answer. ‘as you are.’ says the universe. ‘why...’ you answer. ‘because you are happening now. right now. right at this moment and your happening is beautiful. the thing that both keeps me alive and brings me to my knees. you don’t even know how breathtaking you are. as you are.’ says the universe through tears. as you are | you are the prayer
Perhaps the actual problem is the inexcusable way I have taught myself to love people. If my heart was a flower it would be an anomaly born without sepal or petals. Whole pieces of my soul-gold invested inside the bank of someone else’s heart. I mean, Aphrodite never shows up at school, book in hand, teaching love as the only real art. There are no classes in the coping with the loss of whole people, no warnings left on memory’s tombs. They say love is what makes the world go round, but no one ever leaves a note for us in the womb. No instruction manual when we are born, nor a how-to guide on the correct way to fall. Nor one on how to barter pieces of yourself without losing an eternity inside someone else’s soul. I’m afraid this is why I have always been so lost. I have been loved, and I have loved but I never learned how to gracefully bear the cost. In Which I Admit I Love Badly
“ I thought I had found a swan but it was a migrating snow goose. I thought I was linked invisibly to another’s life but I found myself more alone with him than without him. I thought I had found a fire but it was the play of light on bright stones. I thought I was wounded to the core but I was only bruised. Denise Levertov, Epilogue