Is it so bad to dream of the stars but pine for dirt beneath someone else's shoes?
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Sometimes I am super upset at nothing and it the fact that I know its for nothing makes me more upset. Then I take a step back breathe, eat, feel better and wonder if I was just hungry all along.
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If anything is to define me, I'd want it to be my mistakes. When the time comes and I am no longer able to teach the lessons my scars taught me. I hope that those in need will see my canvas of life, scrutinize the details and imperfections, then stand back and marvel at the intricate tapestry.
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I'm proud of myself because time and time again I have gotten up from what I believe to be my last fall. I continue to give myself grace no matter how undeserving I feel. I grow and understand more than I ever did and still feel nieve and hungry for more. I'm proud for being me and continuing to discover what that means
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You are the universe. You are the universe experiencing itself, enjoying the small aspects of itself. Wake up and dream bigger, dream better.

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I hope death is warm. A coddle when its cold. The feeling of blowing out birthday candles. When babies smile at you in the supermarket. I hope death is gentle. Snow falling silently at 3AM. Your partner turning over in their sleep and draping their arm around you. I hope death is kind. The first friend you make in elementary school. A smile from across a crowded room.
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I often wonder what I would be doing now if I hadn't sought therapy. If I hadn't repaired my damaged and saddened psyche. It makes me teary eyed to think of a timeline where I wasn't strong enough and succumbed to the awful thoughts. I cry into my pillow "I'm happy and I hope others never have to feel what I felt" You are more than what your brain tells you, you are. It's not easy, it'll be hard, but you'll be able to look in the mirror and smile and feel eased.
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I mourn for all the jobs and journeys I never pursued. The paths I didn't take and loves I cut loose. It made me who I am and without it I would not be the same. Though I mourn them and hope someone travels them and tells me tales about where it took them.
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One day I hope to be numb to the anxious heartbeats that come before doing anything. But really, what a beautiful reminder that I am alive and living my life
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I hope that one day I can look back at the mundane in my life and smile, knowing that I enjoyed my rest and explored what made me curious. I wonder though if I will be too caught at that point still doing those exact things.
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Let my fear flow down my back and make me shiver like cold rain until I am ready to step into the warm home with the door always open.
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I like video games
I like video production
I like joking with people
I like smiling and to feel the blood rushing to my cheeks
I like when the shower feels like rain
I like smelling the morning, it smells just like when I was a kid
I like that we try
I like that we fail and get back up
I like life, though sometimes I forget the words I never forget the melody.
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Beautiful is the flower that blossomed without water. Despite conditions you are this loving and kind? You face the sun each day. Putting in the work the others discarded.
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I wonder if you've ever stargazed or if you've just dreamed so much of it that you'd be dissapointed lying in the grass.
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I've been thinking of the mundane and how beautiful it is. Humans create for no reason other than the subtle steering of the heart. An organ we have assigned to deal with both love and loss, passion and emotion. We create because we can. So many intimate thoughts communicated through nothing but passion and love. I think its beautiful this thing we call life
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“you will never be too much for someone who can’t get enough of you”
— Unknown
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I've been thinking of the mundane and how beautiful it is. My heart beats 24/7 and my lungs move without a thought. But right now I can feel the thump in my chest like its beating against my ribcage, trying to prove it exists. That I exist. Think of me once in a while not as I present myself but as my this construct that works today for the end goal of doing it again tomorrow. I think its beautiful this thing we call life
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I've been thinking of the mundane and how beautiful it is. The tree line on a mountain where vegetation stops, not because it wants to but because it is choked out by the sky. A sign from the Earth that reaching too high takes sacrifice and isn't meant to be forever. It seems cruel but it makes you look down then and realize the rest of the world is yours. From treeline to the ocean floor. I think its beautiful this thing we call life
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