Write because you want to communicate with yourself. Write because you want to communicate with someone else. Write because life is weird and tragic and amazing. Write because talking is difficult. Write because it polishes the heart. Write because you can. Write because you can’t. Write because there is a blackbird outside of my window right now and oh my god isn’t that the best start to the day? Write because you’re trying to figure yourself out. Write because you might not ever figure yourself out. Write because there still aren’t enough love poems in the world.
Text Poem Unwritten
I am a poem unwritten
elusive and uncaptured
I enter the mind without warning
And unless you reciprocate what I offer
am gone just as quickly as I came
via Kalyn RoseAnne.
Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.
I’m a Jesus feminist. I’m a feminist precisely because of my love for Jesus, because following Jesus turned me into a feminist. And if you believe that women are people too, then technically, well, I hate to break it to you, but you are a feminist. After all, at the core, feminism simply means that we champion the dignity, rights, responsibilities, and glories of women as equal in importance to those of men, and we refuse discrimination against women.
The more we get what we now call “ourselves” out of the way and let Him take us over, the more truly ourselves we become. There is so much of Him that millions and millions of “little Christs,” all different, will still be too few to express Him fully. He made them all. He invented- as an author invents characters in a novel- all the different [people] that you and I were intended to be. In that sense our real selves are all waiting for us in Him. It is no good trying to “be myself” without Him. The more I resist Him and try to live on my own, the more I become dominated by my own heredity and upbringing and surroundings and natural desires… It is when I turn to Christ, when I give myself up to His Personality, that I first begin to have a real personality of my own.
— C.S. Lewis (via wordsthatyousay)
I, too, remember the feeling. You are caught between all that was and all that must be. You feel lost.
— Haruki Murakami, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of The World (via whyallcaps)
One of the most courageous decisions you will ever make is to finally let go of whatever is hurting your heart and soul.
I’m not worried about little girls wanting to pretend they’re princesses—after all, they’re just in it for the dress-up aspect. The princesses I’m worried about are twenty-two, thirty-two, and forty-two—women who act fragile in order to be rescued at any age. I’m not anti feminine… I don’t feel belittled pouring your drink, ironing the clothes, or walking through the door that’s held for me. But I was taught to take charge when appropriate, and to speak passionately and intelligently. I was taught to expect men to respect me for my mind and my convictions—not for my ability to stroke their fragile ego by playing helpless. I was not raised to play cute, to play dumb, or to play the part of a damsel in distress. I learned to work hard, to develop my skills, to contribute in society, so it drives me crazy when women only depend on sexuality or their fragility. I think there’s a better way. If you’re a woman who gets by with batting your eyelashes, faking incompetence, using your push-up bra, and then complain that you’re not taken seriously in your career or given responsibility in your church, I think you may have believed the reigning cultural lie about what makes us attractive. And if you’re a man and you celebrate femininity only as far as it presence itself through beauty and tenderness, please consider widening your view of what it means to be a woman. Instead, consider things like strength, intelligence, passion, and compassion. Let’s set a new example for young women who are watching us closely. Let’s teach them by example to be women who work hard, who pay attention to their dreams, who give themselves to making the world a better place.
— "Bittersweet" by Shauna Niequist (via yesdarlingido)
I’ve found that growing up means being honest. About what I want. What I need. What I feel. Who I am.
There are friendships I’ve mourned over where too much history got in the way. There were too many harsh words and broken promises and silent disagreements, and it rotted to an impatient grave. But there are others where we traveled the jagged road of reconciliation, mending wounds and untying knots and covering with grace: and on the other end of this is an ocean-deep intimacy of perseverance that couldn’t be reached any other way. We had to wrestle with the ugly parts of our nature. Demons were exposed. Secrets were spilled. Yet there is a joy in this sort of enduring friendship that goes the long distance; there’s a crazy sort of laughter with a lifelong friend that is colored by the weight of heels digging into the ground, a love that says, ‘I’m staying.’ We see it in the cross, and we can have it now, even in a world such as this.