welcome aboard the hot mess express

i hope the love i give everyone else will someday find its way back to me.

To be empathetic means to be so tender with your imperfections that you don’t get angry when other people’s limitations begin to set you off. Instead, you ask them how their heart is doing. If there’s anything they can share that will ease the pain in the present moment. Something the both of you can gently work on to co-exist in peace with simply being human.

“Guess what? You’re allowed to miss him. You’re allowed to miss the warmth of his arms, the sparks in his touch, his voice rough on a sunday morning and the smell of his cologne through your sheets. You’re allowed to cry until your eyes burn and your nose runs, you’re allowed to scream into the pillows and sing too many sad songs and eat until your stomach aches and wish you had another life. You’re allowed to heal, too.”

Love is the capacity to take care, to protect, to nourish. If you are not capable of generating that kind of energy toward yourself- if you are not capable of taking care of yourself, of nourishing yourself, of protecting yourself - it is very difficult to take care of another person. In the Buddhist teaching, it’s clear that to love oneself is the foundation of the love of other people. Love is a practice. Love is truly a practice.

You broke my heart but it’s still yours.

“When you feel like you are alone,” he says as he reaches out to hold her hand, “like you’re the only one in this world,” “I hope you remember that I am here. I am always here with you.” “Whether you notice me or not,” he continues, “I will always be here for you, with you.”

Killing yourself slowly is still killing yourself. Wanting to die is not the same as wanting to come home.

My heart is so tired.

Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.

How long have you been holding those words in your head, hoping to use them?

I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can’t tell fast enough, the ears that aren’t big enough, the eyes that can’t take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.