Never forget to live life to its fullest, even if the price is high. Never forget who you are and what made you that person. Never forget that despite all the ups and downs, you are here and you are perfect.
You are gone. Just like that. And I have no idea where you have gone to. Who is there with you, to keep you company, to console you that your time was cut so grievingly short, to show you how much you were loved. I think back to all the times I did not talk to you, the times I could have been there for you. I was young and shallow and too preoccupied with myself and my own problems. You were there every day, you were the silently burning light that so few saw and cherished. Your light has gone out and no amount of wishing and hoping will rekindle the flame. Know that I will always carry you in my heart, you selfless beautiful soul. I will not forget what the world has lost, even if she does not even realise it herself.
"I have a box full of people,
Who I wish not to fade,
Though I have been told of them dead,
I have the box I made,
To collect them who are missing,
And assemble in here,
So they can keep living,
And I can be near."
"It took many years of vomiting up all the filth I’d been taught about myself, and half-believed, before I was able to walk on this earth as though I had a right to be here."
- James Baldwin
"It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
- Maya Angelou
How dare you tell me I am the one responsible, the one at fault. You, who were supposed to be a friend? Yes, I flaunt my femininity, yes, I revel in my sexuality and yes, I took pride in your admiration, but have you any idea how excruciatingly difficult it was to get here? How much hardship, self-loathing and tears it took for me to accept my past and find a way back to myself? How much work I still have ahead of me? And how dare you throw accusations at me, judging me as a tease, assuming you could treat me like a worthless piece of flesh? What could possibly give you the conviction that I am guilty for your insecurities and shortcomings? I am not a mindless shell ready for the taking. I am not a hypocrite for enjoying my body, but refusing to share it with you. I am not guilty. I am a woman, a huntress, a lover, a friend - and I will not hide for you, nor anyone.
"La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliers
Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles;
L’homme y passe à travers des forêts de symboles
Qui l’observent avec des regards familiers.
Comme de longs échos qui de loin se confondent
Dans une ténébreuse et profonde unité,
Vaste comme la nuit et comme la clarté,
Les parfums, les couleurs et les sons se répondent.
II est des parfums frais comme des chairs d’enfants,
Doux comme les hautbois, verts comme les prairies,
— Et d’autres, corrompus, riches et triomphants,
Ayant l’expansion des choses infinies,
Comme l’ambre, le musc, le benjoin et l’encens,
Qui chantent les transports de l’esprit et des sens."
- Charles Baudelaire
"His own opinion, which he does not air, is that the origins of speech lie in song, and the origins of song in the need to fill out with sound the overlarge and rather empty human soul."
- J. M. Coetzee
Some saw the sunSome saw the smokeSome heard the gunSome bent the bowSometimes the wire must tense for the noteCaught in the fire, say ohWe’re about to explode-Coldplay “Atlas”
Gloomy, gloomy Winter days. Grey skies and harsh winds. Rushing people and hibernating fauna. Icy snow-rain and freezing noses. Gloomy, and yet charming in its own way. Not-quite warm sun rays breaking through the ever-grey skies, the last leaves glittering like jewellery in the face-numbing breath of dear old Winter and Christmas with its cheerful softheartedness just around the corner. Is not true beauty the sparkling shard of glass that cuts us just as deep? Could we sincerely enjoy the serenity and warmth of Christmas without the severity of the cold, the glumness of our days and the hostility of Mother Nature?