Brave as a bear. There are poets who sing you to sleep, and poets who ready you for war.I want to be both.+ + +"Uplifting, sweet, funny, and whimsical to the core.""I read every single word. You write like birds fly. I am captivated.""Like being in a field of flowers with the sun on your face.""Girls like you intimidate me. And I mean that in the best way possible.”"I can't get enough of you. The boy broke my heart, but your blog makes me smile.""Even when you're hurting, your inner beauty shines through.""You vixen of the written word. Your blog slays me.” + + +
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One of the hardest things to learn in life is that the heart is a clock too fast not to break. We lurch into loving, only to discover again and again that it takes a long time to know people, to understand people. Even without intentional deception, people will surprise you, will shock you, will hurt you — not out of malice, but out of the incompleteness of their own self-knowledge, which continually leads them to surprise themselves.
How to see more clearly and love more purely
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An Almanac of Birds: Divinations for Uncertain Days
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“I take this opportunity to let go of anything and everything that doesn’t make me feel good. Anything that feels unkind. Anything that takes up space that I don’t have to give it. Anything that takes up space that I didn’t agree to. Anything that takes up space causing me to shrink or feel unwelcome.”
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why wouldn’t you want the person that you love to have exactly what they need?
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If you like to believe that the shitty things people do that hurt you aren’t actually ~about you~ then you have to admit that the good things people do for you aren’t really about you either.
Everyone is playing a character and when a person connects to you, positively or negatively, they have simply cast you in their movie.
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In the middle of a global pandemic taking the lives of so many people who other people love every day, I just wanted to leave this on here to say thank you. Thank you for giving me all the things I ever hoped for as a young girl who loved to read about love but didn’t know what it was like to be loved by someone and had wished for and wanted it so badly.
My curated tumblr is my young girl heart, and I read back on the things I chose to post on it—all these wishes and dream posts I set loose in the great big wild universe—and they came back to me in you.
You are the love of my life, Joseph.
Thank you for knowing me at my absolute worst, the Nightmare Poison Christine, and still loving me through it, always ready to forgive and move forward again.
Thank you for giving that young girl all her secret, deep-down-inside-the-heart wishes. You’re incredible. The best husband I could have ever hoped for, but even more than I thought I could have.
I love you forever.
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“l'm a speckled seal swimming past breakers, a seabird with a wingspan so long I can fly for miles. I'm the new moon, hidden and safe from him, from everyone.”
— Kate Elizabeth Russell
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When we got married, there were a total of 5 people in the room with us: our 4 witnesses and the chaplain. I wore a dark blue dress with light blue flowers and put a sprig of baby’s breath in my hair. Joe looked handsome as hell in his blues. There was no music or fanfare or the awful stress of a fancy wedding production. That would all come exactly one year later. But in the quiet of that little chapel, we walked down the aisle together and held our shaking hands in a death grip as the chaplain read 1 Corinthians to us. I cried as we said our vows to each other. They were just the regular old vows you hear at almost everyone’s weddings, but saying them at mine didn’t feel regular at all. By the time I got to “to love and to cherish” I could barely get my words out I was crying so much and the chaplain made me repeat myself. I love Joe so much. Time doesn’t diminish that. And as the years go by and we squeak (or sometimes barely squeak) through life’s challenges together, that doesn’t diminish us either. It only serves to make our bond stronger. I love going through my life with him. And as much as it hurts sometimes, I’m thankful to have him with me for all the trying times. He’s the best companion in it all. In better or worse, in richer or poorer, in sickness or health. I love him in all of it and everything else in between. Happy anniversary, Josep. You have made my life so much fuller, better, and brighter and I sure am one heck of a lucky girl.
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You know what I admire so much about you? I have never, in the entire five years I have known you, seen you start a fight with someone. Never. Not once. But if someone jabs at you, you will finish it. And I think you take pride in that fact about yourself. You’re nice and sweet and people think you’re this meek little Asian girl. People tend to underestimate you. But you’re actually one of the strongest people I know. Not like physically strong, you’re weaker than cooked spaghetti. But you have gone through a lot your whole life and you took all of that and it didn’t destroy you. You took it and it made you so strong inside. You will tolerate a lot, but you have lines drawn in the sand and if someone crosses those lines, you don’t take any of their bullshit. At all. You’re feisty. You have barbs. You have teeth and you will growl back. You’re a bad bitch, babe. And that’s really hot and it’s really really admirable.
Joe
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Petite Island Girls 😍 Tall Island Girls 😍 Slim Island Girls 😍 Curvy Island Girls 😍 Thick Island Girls 😍 Light Island Girls 😍 Dark Island Girls 😍 Full Island Girls 😍 Mixed Island Girls 😍
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My husband was sleeping with his hand resting on my hip earlier. I shifted to change positions and his hand fell away just a little. Without missing a beat, he put his hand right where it had been and tugged me against him, just like he does when we’re horsing around and I’m pretending to wriggle away. I thought for a second that I had woken him up, but he was still just as fast asleep. And I thought then how nice it was to know that even sleeping, he still knows: me is me. What a cool thing to get, like a little unconscious compliment. Marriage and committing to just one person might look boring to people who aren’t in it, but I wouldn’t trade the steadfastness and comfort of this day in and day out love for the transient thrills of taking selfies and setting thirst traps for strangers who don’t know any of the million little things about you that don’t carry much weight in the short term but are so necessary in the long. All that just to say that I love being married. I love telling someone the same stories over and over again so much that they can tell those same stories back to me. I love that there is someone in the world who knows just how I like my eggs—over easy on top of hot white rice—and that I used to love them scrambled with onions but I don’t anymore. I love that I can walk around the house singing dumb stuff like “tomato, to-mah-toe, potato, po-tah-toe” off key as hell and he doesn’t sit there and silently cringe. He laughs instead and climbs the stairs to give me a kiss and tell me that he loves my weird little quirks. That shit is nice, guys. That’s holy grail stuff. And if you have it, I hope you recognize it for what it is and hold on tight.
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My husband told me the other night that for years now he has been calling me moonface in his head.
“Your face reminds me of the moon. My moonface. My light in the dark.”
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Oh to be a gremlin child again. Covered in grass stains and grazes, hair unbrushed with daisies in the knots, no concept of my own physicality, half way up a tree and eating an apple around my missing tooth. To be unabashedly ugly, to be unashamedly hungry, to be healthy and hearty and lean and covered in bruises and full of love and sun warmed strawberries. To feel time stretch forever, only flying when I fall into books. To love summer once more, and her insects and sweat.
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