purplepeiskos

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Only the special ones.

Can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been?

Jodi Picoult

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You never stop loving people.

You just stop showing up in hopes the pain would lessen.

But you never stop caring.

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Today I saw a peacock wooing his mate and it was beautiful. His eager dance all the while the hen was looking for food reminded me of us.

No wonder females and food always go together!

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I wish it would rain forever and I would have a reason to stay in and be moody forever

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Thank you everyone who got me to 250 reblogs!

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God! Don't you love it when it rains so hard it blocks the screaming voice in your head?

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I wish a love would come for me,

Cozy.

Like the peace one feels

Bundled up in the soft warmth

Of her blankets,

Watching the afternoon rain,

Paint the plants, green once more,

And the earth, a rich brown,

Scenting the space with sweet petrichor,

And one wants no more.

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I have never seen myself explained better than this

“I know I’m not easy to love. I’m a chronic over-thinker. I overreact more than I should…And every once in a while, I might be a little insecure. But if I am in love with you, I can promise you wholeheartedly that you will be loved with so much passion and intensity that you’ll forget what life felt like before I came along. You will always be cared for and you will always have someone in your corner. Maybe I’m not the best at being loved - But I like to think I’m pretty good at loving.”

— Chelsea Carroll

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“If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are.” ― Kristin Hannah, The Nightingale

but what if after all of my masks are ripped off, i find nothing underneath? who am i then?

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I wish people would soon realise to connect with other people, you need to connect with yourself first.

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Starting Over

Sometimes I look at my life,

at all my meager possessions—

books with underlined sentences,

a chipped mug,

a shirt that still smells like summer.

I wonder who would piece them together

if I disappeared.

If I became a cold case,

filed away in the dust of someone’s “used to be.”

It would be so easy, wouldn't it?

To pack a bag.

To buy a bus ticket under a name that isn’t mine.

To let the wheels carry me to a city

where no one knows the shape of my silence.

To start over.

To become someone new

in a room washed with golden morning light,

coffee cooling on the windowsill,

and no one asking where I’ve been.

But I think of you.

And everything stills.

I wonder if you'd look for me—

not in the obvious ways,

but in the way I look for you now:

in the color of a stranger’s coat,

in the sound of a laugh that turns my head,

in every song I didn’t ask to hear.

Would you grieve me in your quiet moments?

Would my name drift across your mind

like a cloud that doesn’t rain,

just lingers?

There are days I dream of that clean slate—

that fresh start.

But it never feels honest

if you’re not in it.

What’s the point of beginning again

if I can't bring the part of me

that only ever existed with you?

And so, I stay.

In this half-lived life.

This maybe.

This ache.

Because disappearing without you

feels too much like dying,

and not enough like freedom.

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don't we all?

I just wanna go far away from here, far far away, hopefully, somewhere from where there's no return.

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I don't want to cry

I wish the tears would just stop.

I don't want to cry,

at least, not ugly cry.

Not in public,

nor in the cherished confines of my home

before my loved ones.

I wish the ache would stop.

The pain that squeezes, suffocates,

until I am a gasping mess.

The claws of hurt slash at my heart,

screeching in glee,

as blood paints my soul.

I am strong.

I thought I was and I hope I am.

But, as my tears, respond to their calling,

unbidden,

I realise, maybe I am not.

I wish I could stay strong.

They say, tears are the remnant of

oceans still raging in us.

I hope not.

I don't have it in me to cry,

my worries, an ocean.

I wish it would all stop.

Good Lord, make it stop.

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Because when God created them, He put 6 pinches of rainbow, 7 pinches of sunshine and a bottle full of unwavering trust in them.

“How can it be that dogs are more loyal and loving than people?”

— s-loveforever

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THAT WHICH LIVES

From my childhood

I was told,

Joy was living.

It courses through your veins

Giving life to every fibre,

Until you smile and laugh

and is a giddy mess.

And when you are that mess

left alone,

Not a care for the world

True to yourself,

Content,

You are happy.

No one talks of sorrow.

It is hushed,

The talks of it, buried deep,

Within the walls of the hearts

No one bothers to search.

It is at this precipice of adulthood

I realise,

Sorrow is the actual living being.

It pulses, every crescendo, squeezing,

Till it drains every drop of you

that ever cared.

It subdues the soul,

Encompasses your spirit

And leaves you gasping,

For air, or for something else,

You never know.

But, you are gasping,

Always gasping,

A breath away from death,

Sweet death,

Always near but never reaching.

Joy is living.

So, help me God, when I say,

Sadness teaches life.

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My favorite names for safety, start with the letter L,

Laissez-faire,

Lakes,

Language,

Laughter,

Leading,

Learning,

Leveled,

Light,

Listening,

Love,

Lucid,

Luck,

Lyni,

Because at the end of the day, I cannot protect you from yourself.