alyriamuse-blog - Tumblr blog

[alyriamuse-blog]

The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it is not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of the other person—without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other.

Osho (via thelovejournals)

[alyriamuse-blog]

you must want to spend the rest of your life with yourself first

Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey (via thelovejournals)

[alyriamuse-blog]

Heredity

   Drip Drip

It comes steadily

Made to support

pouring through an IV

   Click click

We select our poison

Masochistic cycles

Egocentric plague

  Perpetuating pendulum pounding in my brain

           Twisted up tentacles trying in vain

  To conquer

To seize

To mold a common mind

                    Never tried

It all died

And somehow I escaped

When immunity becomes a little less than impunity

Poured through a sieve to slide into silence

           Out of yearning, out of time.

Drip drip

Were you ever mine?

Trick trick

I will watch you die.

[alyriamuse-blog]

yessss. time is the best medicine we have. let it do its work while you learn how to wait.

http://iglovequotes.net/

[alyriamuse-blog]

Daughters of the horse-leech, thy tempest out-thunders me.

source: Israel Zangwill, Without Prejudice, 1899. This description, at the time meant to be as absurd a set of charges and demands as could be placed in a straw woman’s mouth, today reads like a beautiful manifesto.

[alyriamuse-blog]

Judas

There’s a reason why we try to name all these little things

And there’s a rhythm to the way we claim

Hold tight 

lock

and seal it with a kiss.

  But a kiss was a betrayal

You learned this long ago

And a kiss will never ever ever let you go.

  There’s a reason why you grope

Fumble stumble mumble while falling down an icy slope

Pulling grabbing dragging me down as well

 Down a well

Does it smell?

Like the mold under your bed?

Where you lie eyes pried open with the covers wrapped round tight

           As you stare into the night

                       Panting “goodnight nobody”.

                                   Hoping that you’re somebody?

  I thought so.

Knew so.

Didn’t have to prove so.

  But there’s a satisfaction rich and raw

To the seizing of this pride while staring down your maw

Open wide, glaring wide and daring me to enter

           Because a moment is never longer than the time you didn’t need

                       Until it stretches out and becomes eternity

So you name, claim, steal, kill

Hold me ever closer while you whisper your deathcall

And I cannot help you anymore

I can’t save anyone at all.

  So I bend down to your level

To kiss you my farewell

But a kiss was a betrayal

You taught me this as well.

[alyriamuse-blog]

[ ]

[alyriamuse-blog]

Being motivated by others – the feedback loop of positivity.

Outside of a Doctor Seuss book, the mantra Be Yourself is nothing short of cringeworthy.  How are you to even know what that means?  Or what yourself is?  

In your early years, yourself really just means you mimicking those about you that you admire and look up to.  Your walk, talk, manner of dress, affectations, are all stolen from your environment.  You handpick cobble together a Frankenstein of youthful culture. Eventually, hopefully, those affectations lose their stickiness, and begin to fall away. It is at this point that we start to face our true natures.  

What tendencies were there from the beginning, even before we started to slap traits upon ourselves like temporary tattoos of pirate hats and multi-colored zebras in sunglasses?  What things have we been choking back and stifling that we decide to finally embrace as a part of an ineffable nature?  What weaknesses have we learned we must daily overcome to prevent our own quiet destruction of our selves by ourselves?   And maybe, just maybe, we begin to like ourselves for who we really are.  

We have resigned ourselves to the fact that we perhaps we cannot change our genes or the ghosts of our past, but maybe we can still make a beautiful life. And maybe we decide that our crookedness, our awkwardnesses, our own personal strangenesses, are all wonderful and immutable and therefore...embraceable.  The things we cannot change about ourselves define us – set us apart in the vast sea of humanity.  They are how those who love us recognize us, and are perhaps the reasons they picked us out of the crowds and said 

“This one.  This one I’ll keep around.”

And then, the cycle can begin.  We pursue our passions, figure out how to avoid or climb the obstacles between us and our dreams.  Maybe we accept that our dreams are our only hope for rest, for fun, for intimacy.  We stop trying to be like those around us, stop trying to force ourselves into an ill-constructed and misled mold that is really outdated anyway.  And we begin to become comfortable in our own ill-fitted, slightly less ill-constructed skins.   

Without even knowing it, we affect others around us.  We may just be being ourselves, and be oblivious to the notice that might be taken. And yet a spillover effect can occur merely by embracing the positive and healthful in our own natures. And it will all be ok, because you all understand and accept that no one has any clue.  

Those who say they do have glittery, glow-in-the-dark shapes starting to peel off of their upper arms...but they think it looks charming and alluring. 

Then one day, you are tired of it.  This skin that you have accepted as irrefutably your own is so damning.  So claustrophobic.  It keeps you from being what you crave, what you know your lighter, inner self to truly be.  It pins you to the ground, like Peter Pan sticking his shadow to his shoes.  And try as you might, your shadowy self is trapped...for a while.  

You start to smother in the things that you used to embrace.  

You cannot shake the dust off your feet and carry on, for it is your feet that you want to shake off.  But you are earthern, earth-bound, dust-made.  And here to stay...for a little while.   

But then, you see them.  They are glowing, happy, striving, sweating, bleeding. They know that this earth is hard.  They itch and burn and scratch at their selves same as you, but they have accepted that they cannot change the Way Things Are.  

Suddenly you are buoyed up with hope.  Someone else, fighting through this gluey nightmare-sludge that prevents us from fleeing from the monster of reality, is lucid dreaming before your very eyes.  They are stepping out in hope and faith into the very darkness of this uncertain world.  And they are built up on the hope and love that they see in those around them