Administrator's blog

No, I regret nothing. 
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I can’t sleep.  So I write. 

I haven’t written to myself in a long time; my heart tells me that this is the morning to do so.  I am tired of staring at the ghosts on my ceiling.  They float around my head when I am trying to sleep but can’t, so I watch them play instead.     

I am troubled because I just realized that we are always in the process of losing the things we love.  It’s been a couple days since Valentine’s Day, and the piece that I wrote previous to this one was dated exactly a year ago.  It was based upon a conversation that took place a very long time ago, in another lifetime perhaps.  I was asked by a man whom I was in love with at the time (and who loved me at the time), how did I know that I was in love with him?  How was this time different?  How was he special?  I pondered for a long time that night, and I sat down and wrote and rewrote, and scribbled and cried, and poured my emotions out on a piece of paper.  This piece of paper became many pieces of paper, and that one night eventually became many nights, stretched out over a period of years, stretched out over periods of various versions of me, each doomed to an existence more short-lived than the one preceding.  That passage was the cumulative result of a little girl who loved and lost, and loved and lost, and loved and lost, over and over and over again, until she had nothing left for herself but the shell of her own heart.  It is a painful realization to bear that the only being who will ever completely empathize with the tragedy of this finality is her and her alone.  Me. 

The point is, sometimes I feel like I don’t really know what love is.  Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t have the consciousness to say it to another human being.  How in the world does anyone learn to love another person for their whole heart when we’re so concerned with our own hearts getting broken in the process?  We’re all just struggling in learning to love.  Nobody really has any idea what they’re doing with theirs or anybody’s heart.  And then we lose the things we love.  We lose the things we love in such heartbreaking ways.  Whether it be death or inevitabilily, it’s always heartbreaking.  Especially when it comes quietly.  Loss in any of its manifestations causes us to grow and stretch into a greater version of ourselves.  Life breaks each of us over and over again, and with any luck, we become stronger in the places that were broken.  Letting go of things or people that are hurting us is painful but necessary, and sometimes it is so necessary that the act itself is painful.  Just remember that it’s not goodbye.  You take the best parts of those you have loved with you, and you carry them with you always.  You learn to live with what you lose, and that’s what is meant to be.   

Eventually some of us may realize that the person that we need to let go of is ourselves.   That’s precisely where I am right now.  I am in the process of giving everything up to get it all back.

I hope I find that little girl again, I really do.  

(via)
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T o u c h e d
You say that I am too
So much of what you say is true

I'll never find someone quite like you again
I'll never find someone quite like you, like you

The razors and the dying roses
Plead I don't leave you alone
The demi-gods and hungry ghosts
God, god knows I'm not at home

I'll never find someone quite like you again
I'll never find someone quite like you again

I, I looked into your eyes and saw 
A world that does not exist
I looked into your eyes
And saw a world I wish I was in

I'll never find someone quite as touched as you
I'll never love someone quite the way that I loved you

- Jon Crosby, 'Touched'

v i a 
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Someone once asked me how I knew what love was, and initially I didn’t know how to go about answering that. I mustered up all my courage (because love is a wholly courageous entity), and I told them that love was like nothing that could be explained, nothing that is logical or sound. The feeling makes everything bleary and sweet, without beginning or end, without cause or justification. The emotions within you are magnified to the extent in which tastes are colors, sights have sounds, music plays within empty rooms. You know that you love someone when you are aware of their faults, every last one, and regardless of any of these shortcomings, the mere thought of them brings you to tears. You would die for them without question, without any thought of yourself. They are you and you are them. They are the mirror that you gaze into with every beating and lulling of your heart. This heartbeat is ever-present and in every substance imaginable, animate or not. It is wholly consuming, entirely powerful, and causes you to dream things that you never before imagined possible. Your soul is greeted with bells while the lilt of your heart echoes within your head.

(via bleedingfragments)
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"...  Time is the longest distance between two places."

- Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie 
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Learning how to love myself is a delicate procedure.  It's almost as if I'm collecting a mirror that's been shattered.  It requires me to pick up all the broken pieces of myself and reassemble them so the fragments fit together; not perfectly but to the best of my ability.  I'm finding some of the shards are so damaged, I don't assume that they will fit anywhere.  What I'm slowly realizing is that everything has a place so long as I remain patient.  And if I'm brave, I will have the courage to gaze upon my reflection after all the pieces reside to where they belong.  

via
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My darling, do not lose hope.

Melancholy is something that can be altered with a simple change of perception. A sunny outlook can work wonders.
You will suddenly remember what you loved about things long forgotten.
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I promise.
When all of this is over,
everything will make sense.
Everything will have fallen into place.
The world
will be just as it should be.
And all of it
will be so
so
beautiful.
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Life is a learning process.  Wisdom comes to those who have faults, who make errors, who hurt others and in the process of doing so, hurt themselves.  Sometimes the only way we learn is by making a painful mistake for the grander purpose of being taught an important lesson.  There's much truth to the statement that a lesson will be repeated until it is learned...  The same lesson will be presented to you in various forms until it teaches you what you need to know.  Although sometimes these people and situations come to you in disguise, the end result is always the same.  And sometimes we must realize there's little that can be done to prevent this heartache...  It simply has to be.  

With wisdom comes strength, courage, knowing, and an ever-increasing inner peace.  Be brave, dry your tears, and hold on tight.  The only way out is through. 

via
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“To let go means to give up coercing, resisting, or struggling, in exchange for something more powerful and wholesome which comes out of allowing things to be as they are without getting caught up in your attraction to or rejection of them, in the intrinsic stickiness of wanting, of liking and disliking.”

- Jon Kabat-Zinn

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“It hurts to let go.  Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away.  You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted.  For having wanted to be wanted.  It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it’s so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn’t come back.  You’re left so alone that you can’t explain.  Damn, there’s nothing like that, is there?  I’ve been there and you have too.  You’re nodding your head.”

- Henry Rollins

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“The enduring life is the one that begins once we awaken from this world. And it is in that awakening that we realize… It was only a dream.”

- Yasmin Mogahed
 
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" It would be different, if we could just give it another go-round. "
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...

Baby, all I want for Christmas is you. 
 
v i a 
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/ˈsəbstəns/

noun
1.  the physical matter of which a person or thing consists and which has a tangible, solid presence
2.  the essential nature underlying phenomena; the real or essential meaning