The only thing that gets people through life, she thought. What else could?
When things crack people, when things knock us down, when we skin our knees, when our hearts break, what else can get us through life? Only persistence.
Sure, sometimes our persistence falters, sometimes we want to give up. Sometimes, we just want to fall, and never get back up.
But we do.
We get up. We move on. We keep walking. Walking down the road of life.
Yeah, we get tired. Yeah, we get beat down. Yeah, we do. But we don't stay tired, we don't stay down. We just don't.
We get back up on our feet. We keep going.
We persist.
People don't trust people as much as they think, she realized. Then she thought.
If people trusted people, what was the point of secrets? Whats the point of keeping skeletons in your closet?
Because people don't trust people. People don't trust people with the little secrets that make us us . People don't want to admit it, but these secrets, no matter how terrible, affect them. These secrets make them who they are. If it weren't for these secrets, these things they witnessed or took place in or caused or delayed or thought about or whatever made them into who they are. Whether horrible or blissful or passionate or dull, scary, happy, f
Love.
What is there about "love" that worth getting philisophical about? Why do so many people get so confused about love? Love is love, right?
Wrong.
If love is so simple, why isn't it easy to figure it out? Because its not simple. How can it be? An emotion so strong its nearly tangable, so hot-wired it makes us do stupid stuff? If love isn't simple, does that mean its complex? Of course not!
We all know when we feel it. That warm feeling in our hearts that makes us feel like we're flying, a million miles away with only the target of our affection, the one that keeps us from sleeping at night, the one that, no matter how selfish we are,
The Beauty of Desolation by HerLovelySuicide, literature
Literature
The Beauty of Desolation
Can desolation be beautiful?
She thought so. Most people didn't. She thought about it more and more. A desert was desolate. But it had some beautiful sights.
People thought that desolate meant depressing, lonely. But she had some of her best revelations when she was alone. Like this one.
Desolate wasn't lonely or depressing. Desolate was beautiful.
Change or Constant? by HerLovelySuicide, literature
Literature
Change or Constant?
She thought. Some people had the mindset that they were the only constants in their lives. She thought about that. She looked back on herself. She wasn't constant. She knew that.
She had gone through so many changes, her head spun just thinking about it. She shut her eyes. She thought. And image flashed in her head, an image of passed habits. Images of old friends, old enemies, old schools. Images of events, places she'd gone. She saw a waterfall she nearly fell off when she was little.
No.
SHe wasn't constant. Then again, who was? Everyone was forever changing, forever losing grip of what they had, forever grasping onto new things. New p
She stared down at the rivulets of water, distorting her reflection. Is this how she really was? Was this the reflection of her soul?
This got her thinking, and questioning.
when you meet someone, you only see a stable reflection of who they are. You see green, blue, or hazel eyes. You see full, medium, or thin lips. You see flawless or flawed skin. But what about inside? What if, inside, they're like water?
Staring at her reflection, she realized this. Inside, she was unstable, riplets forming whenever someone chose to throw a rock into the peaceful lake of her life. People saw her as stable, strong. Is water stable? No. Is water strong?
What would you do if I disappeared?
Just like smoke, gone like that?
Would you look for me?
Would you search until you found me?
Would you even care?
What would you do?
Would you be glad I was gone,
Finally out of your hair?
I can't focus, I can't see
My vision shimmers,
Like the tears that threaten to spill
I can't concentrate
I can't calm down
Ineed to sever the bonds
That hold me still
Will you look?
Will you care?
Would you even notice
I wasn't there?
The only thing that gets people through life, she thought. What else could?
When things crack people, when things knock us down, when we skin our knees, when our hearts break, what else can get us through life? Only persistence.
Sure, sometimes our persistence falters, sometimes we want to give up. Sometimes, we just want to fall, and never get back up.
But we do.
We get up. We move on. We keep walking. Walking down the road of life.
Yeah, we get tired. Yeah, we get beat down. Yeah, we do. But we don't stay tired, we don't stay down. We just don't.
We get back up on our feet. We keep going.
We persist.
People don't trust people as much as they think, she realized. Then she thought.
If people trusted people, what was the point of secrets? Whats the point of keeping skeletons in your closet?
Because people don't trust people. People don't trust people with the little secrets that make us us . People don't want to admit it, but these secrets, no matter how terrible, affect them. These secrets make them who they are. If it weren't for these secrets, these things they witnessed or took place in or caused or delayed or thought about or whatever made them into who they are. Whether horrible or blissful or passionate or dull, scary, happy, f
Love.
What is there about "love" that worth getting philisophical about? Why do so many people get so confused about love? Love is love, right?
Wrong.
If love is so simple, why isn't it easy to figure it out? Because its not simple. How can it be? An emotion so strong its nearly tangable, so hot-wired it makes us do stupid stuff? If love isn't simple, does that mean its complex? Of course not!
We all know when we feel it. That warm feeling in our hearts that makes us feel like we're flying, a million miles away with only the target of our affection, the one that keeps us from sleeping at night, the one that, no matter how selfish we are,
The Beauty of Desolation by HerLovelySuicide, literature
Literature
The Beauty of Desolation
Can desolation be beautiful?
She thought so. Most people didn't. She thought about it more and more. A desert was desolate. But it had some beautiful sights.
People thought that desolate meant depressing, lonely. But she had some of her best revelations when she was alone. Like this one.
Desolate wasn't lonely or depressing. Desolate was beautiful.
Change or Constant? by HerLovelySuicide, literature
Literature
Change or Constant?
She thought. Some people had the mindset that they were the only constants in their lives. She thought about that. She looked back on herself. She wasn't constant. She knew that.
She had gone through so many changes, her head spun just thinking about it. She shut her eyes. She thought. And image flashed in her head, an image of passed habits. Images of old friends, old enemies, old schools. Images of events, places she'd gone. She saw a waterfall she nearly fell off when she was little.
No.
SHe wasn't constant. Then again, who was? Everyone was forever changing, forever losing grip of what they had, forever grasping onto new things. New p
She stared down at the rivulets of water, distorting her reflection. Is this how she really was? Was this the reflection of her soul?
This got her thinking, and questioning.
when you meet someone, you only see a stable reflection of who they are. You see green, blue, or hazel eyes. You see full, medium, or thin lips. You see flawless or flawed skin. But what about inside? What if, inside, they're like water?
Staring at her reflection, she realized this. Inside, she was unstable, riplets forming whenever someone chose to throw a rock into the peaceful lake of her life. People saw her as stable, strong. Is water stable? No. Is water strong?
LoZ: Seal of the Spirit by NemesisOmega, literature
Literature
LoZ: Seal of the Spirit
Standing at the precipice of the ancient structure, Jeff was damp with sweat from the hot desert sun, and intrigued by the vast size of the seemingly untouched structure before them, which stood in stark contrast with the almost non-existent remains of small wooden structures they had just seen on their way in.
He thought at first that it had been some kind of coliseum, as the size and layout of the central building would suggest, but found that the more they explored the ruined insides of the building leading up to the central area, the more confused he got.
There were many barred cell doors, most of them completely rusted over and broken
Fuck life. Fuck everything. Just.. Just fuck it all. Like, legit?
Is this really what its like being OS? Getting called insane, getting told you need help by someone you cared about? Legit? Just.. Just fuck it. I can't. I just can't. Why does this have to happen? Why can't people MOVE THE FUCK ON? Why!? Ugh!
FUCK IT ALL!!!!
Thanks so much for the faves hunny and sorry for the delayed response! Much going on here but all great stuff. Just need to do the lettering on your hat