Are you supposed to be thankful for something you didn’t want or ask for? Whether it’s good or bad to you, whether it’s well intended or not.
Should you only be thankful for things that are good for you? Or only the ones that were well intended, regardless of the result? Or should you just be thankful for everything that happens and comes to you? Because everything has a reason, a cause, a goal, a purpose.
It’s easy to look away and drown yourself in distractions.
Why not for once be courageous and face the confrontations,
regardless of their outcome…
What’s the worst that could happen ?
You hurt, you learn.
You suffer, you grow.
You break, you heal.
You die, you won’t be alive to remember it anyway.
So what’s the big deal ?
Go on and dive right in, head first, your heart will follow. Your soul is immortal but your body wil decay anyway. Might as well take that chance.
It could lead to self destruct, tough luck. There’s not much you can’t recover from, all your past struggles bringing you right here are already proof of your strength.
It could also lead to a plentiful blossoming of your self, your awareness, your power of happiness. There’s so much more to gain if you’re just willing to give it a try.
Losses are part of life, standing still is part of death.
Your choice. Confirmation or confrontation ?
You revive me…
♥ Like a breath of fresh oxygen on a dusty pile of smoldering ashes
♥ Like breaking through the surface of the water after the dive turned out too deep
♥ Like finally waking from a recycling dream of thinking you got up and started your day but each time you were still sleeping
♥ Like cleansing my skin after a long day surrounded by a dirty world with scentful soap and warm water
♥ Like that first bite of something delicious to still a hunger from too many hours of working too hard
♥ Like a hug that connects every particle of the universe together in an infinite alignment of our past, present & future selfs, showing us we’re ours 💕
The scariest part of being alone is not the loneliness.
It’s the forceful necessity to have only yourself to count on and deal with, in every situation, through every cognition and emotion, during every smile or teardrop, and every breath that falls too heavily.
While part of you suffers from urges to end all existence & an equally desperate part is looking anxiously to find purpose, still. Those being only two minor examples of the thousands and thousands of scattered pieces of self that constantly reflect and contradict one another.
It’s easy to get lost inside the mazes of your own heart and mind intertwined, when your soul feels trapped and the only way out is out of or through yourself. But what if there’s nothing, no one, outside of yourself to reach out to? Nobody you can truly trust, nobody to have meaningful interaction, nobody to share or exchange ideas and thoughts with, nobody to empathize or care with you.
I don’t claim to need anyone, but I don’t believe any person is capable of carrying their entire life by themselves one hundred percent of the time.
Of course, essentially, in all beginning and ending as well as most of the time in between, we are just ourselves by ourselves. But what becomes of this self, if it is only that connection you have… for days, becoming weeks, turning into months, building up to years. How does one grow out of themselves if all they have as reference, is their self, their own, alone, always…?
How dangerous can you become, by yourself, before interference becomes obvious? Who is to draw the line, but yourself, turning the whole thing into pure rhetorical irony?
To take it a little further, because why not? Or actually, because why not.
Who will then, when the line is drawn and interference becomes inevitable, be the one to step in between and flip the switch? Which switch would flipping become to have the mostly preferred result? What is this result supposed to be looking alike?
Who decides all this, or anything, the self that chose to become dangerous just because its possibility was an endless option, or the one who found cautiousness significant enough to inquire for change, or any of the other infinite varieties of self that have potential to be puzzled together from all the scattered pieces alone?
The scariest part
of being alone
is not the
– Truth Beyond Mystery
What scares me most?
Loneliness. Because I live it.
What I want most?
Solitude. The only way I can be myself.
See my dilemma here?
What I crave and hate most deeply at the same time:
Being alone. With my only enemy, my only companion, me…