Make tea, not war

I am trying to substitute sadness with tree sap, coat my wounds in honey instead of salt. Say: I am soft and filled with light, even when you try to shroud me with dark.

There was another life that I might have had, but I am having this one.

rule number 1: You never ever tell someone to kill themselves

I am a millennial. Generation Y. Born between the birth of AIDS and 9/11, give or take. They call us the “Global Generation.” We are known for our entitlement and narcissism. Some say it’s because we’re the first generation where every kid gets a trophy just for showing up. Others think it’s because social media allows us to post every time we fart or have a sandwich for all the world to see. But it seems that our one defining trait is the numbness to the world—an indifference to suffering.

You think you’ve seen her naked because she took her clothes off? You’ve kissed her lips, and you’ve climbed inside her. Somehow you think that’s enough to know and love someone. Tell me about her nightmares? The ones that have her twitching next to you as you snore on, oblivious. Look down at your unblemished hands and tell me how many times you’ve cut yourself on the pieces of her broken heart. Tell me why she paints, Why she writes, Why she takes long baths. Tell me about her life, her childhood. Tell me about the first man who broke her heart. Tell me about her father and her brother. Tell me about her demons, and her fears. Tell me about her insecurities and the conversations she has with herself. Tell me about everything she wants from life. Tell me all the tiny little things she’s wished upon a star for. Tell me why her favorite city is her favorite city. Tell me why she flinches, ever so slightly, when you call her beautiful. Tell me all the little things you hate about her, and I’ll tell you why I love them. Tell me about her darkness, and I’ll tell you about her light. No my friend, you may have seen her body, but you have still yet to see her naked.

Bad books on writing tell you to “WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW”, a solemn and totally false adage that is the reason there exist so many mediocre novels about English professors contemplating adultery.

I was made for another planet altogether. I mistook the way.

Bear patiently, my heart - for you have suffered heavier things.

If you obsess over whether you are making the right decision, you are basically assuming that the universe will reward you for one thing and punish you for another. The universe has no fixed agenda. Once you make any decision, it works around that decision. There is no right or wrong, only a series of possibilities that shift with each thought, feeling, and action that you experience. If this sounds too mystical, refer again to the body. Every significant vital sign- body temperature, heart rate, oxygen consumption, hormone level, brain activity, and so on- alters the moment you decide to do anything… decisions are signals telling your body, mind, and environment to move in a certain direction

I wonder how much it hurts to live in the past compared to the future? What does it say about a person when their obsessiveness stems from caring too much about where they are going instead of where they have been? Am I utterly selfish?

I am too full of life to be half loved.