STOP ACTING SO SMALL. YOU ARE THE UNIVERSE IN ECSTATIC MOTION.

by Rumi

- "For me, it's not important, as missing you is.."

" AT NIGHT I DREAM THAT YOU AND I ARE TWO PLANTS

THAT GREW TOGETHER, ROOTS ENTWINED,

AND THAT YOU KNOW THE EARTH AND THE RAIN LIKE MY MOUTH,

SINCE WE ARE MADE OF EARTH AND RAIN. "

by Pablo Neruda

The Diary of Frida Kahlo

" I THINK IT’S GREAT FOR TWO PEOPLE TO BE TOGETHER. THAT IS A GOOD NUMBER. I THINK, THAT TO KEEP IT ALIVE THOUGH, YOU CAN’T SPEND EVERY DAY TOGETHER. IT WEARS OUT THE MAGIC, LOVE MEANS NOTHING TO ME IF IT’S NOT FORTIFIED WITH FIERCE, PAINFUL LONGING, BRIEF EXPLOSIVE INSTANCES OF FURIOUS PASSION AND INTIMACY AND THEN A SAD PARTING FOR A TIME. IN THAT WAY, YOU CAN GIVE YOUR LIFE TO IT AND STILL HAVE A LIFE OF YOUR OWN. I THINK SOME COUPLES SPEND TOO MUCH TIME TOGETHER. THEY FLATTEN OUT THE POTENTIAL FOR EXPERIENCE BY CONSTANT CLOSENESS. PASSION BUILDS OVER TIME LIKE STEAM. LET IT RAGE UNTIL IT’S EXHAUSTED AND THEN LEAVE IT ALONE TO LET IT BUILD UP AGAIN. WHY CAN’T LOVE BE INSANE AND DISTORTED? HOW CAN IT BE VITAL IF IT HAS THE SAME THRESHOLD AS NORMAL DAY-TO-DAY EXPERIENCE? WHY CAN’T YOU WRITE BURNING LETTERS AND LET YOUR NOCTURNAL SELF SMOLDER WITH DESIRE FOR ONE WHO IS NOT THERE? WHY NOT LET THE DAYS BEFORE YOU SEE HER BE EXCRUCIATING AND FERMENT IN YOUR MIND SO ON THE DAY YOU GO TO THE AIRPORT TO PICK HER UP, YOU’RE NEARLY SICK WITH ANTICIPATION? AND THEN WHEN DESIRE SHOWS THE FIRST SIGN OF CONTENTMENT, THROW IT BACK IN ITS CAGE AND LET IT SLOWLY BUILD ITSELF BACK INTO A STATE OF STARVED FURY. THEN WHEN YOU ARE TOGETHER, IT ALL MATTERS. SO THAT WHEN YOU LOOK INTO HER EYES, YOU LOSE YOUR BALANCE, SO THAT WHEN SHE TOUCHES YOU, IT FEELS LIKE YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN TOUCHED BEFORE. WHEN SHE SAYS YOUR NAME, YOU THINK IT WAS SHE WHO NAMED YOU. WHEN SHE HAS GONE, YOU BURY YOUR FACE IN THE PILLOW TO SMELL HER HAIR AND YOU LIE AWAKE AT NIGHT REMEMBERING YOUR FACE IN HER NECK, HER BREATHING AND THE AMAZING SMELL OF HER SKIN. YOUR EYES GO WET BECAUSE YOU WANT HER SO BAD AND MISS HER SO MUCH. NOW THAT IS WORTH THE MILES AND THE TIME. THAT MATCHES THE INFERNO OF LIFE. OTHERWISE YOU POISON EACH OTHER WITH YOUR PRESENCE DAY AFTER DAY AS YOU DRAG EACH OTHER THROUGH THE INEVITABLE MUNDANE ASPECTS OF YOUR LIVES. THAT IS THE SLOW DEATH THAT I SEE SLAPPED ON FACES EVERYWHERE I GO. IT’S PART OF THE WORLD’S SADNESS THAT’S MORE EMPTY THAN COLD, POORLY LIT ROOMS IN CITIES OF THE AMERICAN NIGHT. "

" WHAT IF SHE WAS MEANT TO BE, OR COULD HAVE BEEN, SOMEONE IMPORTANT IN MY LIFE? I THINK THAT’S WHAT SCARES ME: THE RANDOMNESS OF EVERYTHING. THAT THE PEOPLE WHO COULD BE IMPORTANT TO YOU MIGHT JUST PASS YOU BY. OR YOU PASS THEM BY. "

" EVERYTHING FALLS APART AT THE EXACT SAME TIME

THAT IT ALL COMES TOGETHER PERFECTLY FOR THE NEXT STEP "

" EVERYTHING WAS SURROUNDED BY THE GREEN MIRACLE OF THE LANDSCAPE OF YOUR BODY. UPON YOUR FORM, THE LASHES OF THE FLOWERS RESPONDED TO MY TOUCH, THE MURMUR OF STREAMS. THERE WAS ALL MANNER OF FRUITS IN THE JUICE OF YOUR LIPS, THE BLOOD OF THE POMEGRANATE, THE HORIZON OF THE MAMMEE AND THE PURIFIED PINEAPPLE. I PRESSED YOU AGAINST MY BREAST AND THE PRODIGY OF YOUR FORM PENETRATED ALL MY BLOOD THROUGH THE TIPS OF MY FINGERS. SMELL OF OAK ESSENCE, MEMORIES OF WALNUT, GREEN BREATH OF ASH TREE. HORIZON AND LANDSCAPES = I TRACED THEM WITH A KISS. OBLIVION OF WORDS WILL FORM THE EXACT LANGUAGE UNDERSTANDING THE GLANCES OF OUR CLOSED EYES. = YOU ARE HERE, INTANGIBLE AND YOU ARE ALL THE UNIVERSE WHICH I SHAPE INTO THE SPACE OF MY ROOM… FROM YOU TO MY HANDS, I CARESS YOUR ENTIRE BODY, AND I AM WITH YOU FOR A MINUTE AND I AM WITH MYSELF FOR A MOMENT… THE GREEN MIRACLE OF THE LANDSCAPE OF MY BODY BECOMES IN YOU THE WHOLE OF NATURE. I FLY THROUGH IT TO CARESS THE ROUNDED HILLS WITH MY FINGERTIPS, MY HANDS SINK INTO THE SHADOWY VALLEYS IN AN URGE TO POSSESS AND I’M ENVELOPED IN THE EMBRACE OF GENTLE BRANCHES, GREEN AND COOL. I PENETRATE THE SEX OF THE WHOLE EARTH, HER HEAT CHARS ME AND MY ENTIRE BODY IS RUBBED BY THE FRESHNESS OF THE TENDER LEAVES. THEIR DEW IS THE SWEAT OF AN EVER-NEW LOVER. IT’S NOT LOVE, OR TENDERNESS, OR AFFECTION, IT’S LIFE ITSELF, MY LIFE, THAT I FOUND WHEN I SAW IT IN YOUR HANDS, IN YOUR MOUTH AND IN YOUR BREASTS. I HAVE THE TASTE OF ALMONDS FROM YOUR LIPS IN MY MOUTH. OUR WORLDS HAVE NEVER GONE OUTSIDE. ONLY ONE MOUNTAIN CAN KNOW THE CORE OF ANOTHER MOUNTAIN. "

by Frida Kahlo, The Diary of Frida Kahlo

Teeny tiny trotting !!

keep a box of mementos, souvenirs of your current world. in a couple of years you’ll look through it with the detached sentimentality of a stranger who has vaguely known your stories. you’ll read over the letters and skim through journals. you’ll mark the nights that have changed you. you’ll mark the nights that you just barely survived. collect the movie stubs, the small gifts, birthday cards. remember who is in your life. remember who has left. put on the one elephant earring that maria had given you at the barn when you were fourteen and needed a miracle. hold it in your palm. remember that drive home in the sunlight when rodney only smiled in the driver’s seat while you looked out the window and cried and laughed and cried and laughed. read through all of it and you will see how you’ve grown, how even your handwriting has changed, how you have become sloppier with language, how your priorities have toppled over each other and rebuilt into different homes. remember fondly the past selves that you have grown out of, shed, and found a new shell to call your own. remember the old haircuts, your favorite blouses. acknowledge it all. all the hurt and all the sadness, all of the love that you have received and all the love that you have given out. then, let go of all the things that keep you from moving forward. try to understand, from a far away perspective, why you hurt when you hurt. try to understand why that night in his bed you could not say let me be free. understand why your loneliness defined you for so long, and then let it go. there will be more nights. most memories blur with time. faces smudge, facts get misshapen, and sooner or later you realize that those nights that you depended on for solace are no longer what you need to survive. think of you at sixteen sitting in that dark room, cleaning the pink throw up off the wooden floors. think of her and understand that that moment was necessary, but no longer defines you. that night will be replaced with sneaking onto the roof of your elementary school with the boy that you will one day love, kicking basketballs off of the roof with one, no two shooting stars tailgating overhead. understand who you were and kiss that self on the cheek, say thank you, say goodbye. let go of all that is keeping you from moving forward, from climbing your way into the new stage of your life.. it’s going to be so hard to peel all these selves back. it will be so hard to let go of the things that you no longer need. but you must, love. you must. you have so much to look forward to. let go of all the memories holding you by the tail end of your shirt. let go. it will be okay.

Tell The People You Love That You Love Them

" FIND ECSTASY WITHIN YOURSELF. IT IS NOT OUT THERE. IT IS IN YOUR INNERMOST FLOWERING. THE ONE YOU ARE LOOKING FOR IS YOU. "

I LOVE BEING HORRIBLY STRAIGHTFORWARD. I LOVE SENDING RECKLESS TEXT MESSAGES (BECAUSE HOW RECKLESS CAN A FORM OF DIGITIZED COMMUNICATION BE?) AND TELLING PEOPLE I LOVE THEM AND TELLING PEOPLE THEY ARE ABSOLUTELY MAGICAL HUMANS AND I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY REALLY EXIST. I LOVE SAYING, “KISS ME HARDER,” AND “YOU’RE A GOOD PERSON,” AND, “YOU BRIGHTEN MY DAY.” I LIVE MY LIFE AS STRAIGHT-FORWARD AS POSSIBLE.

 

BECAUSE ONE DAY, I MIGHT GET HIT BY A BUS.

 

MAYBE IT’S WEIRD. MAYBE IT’S SCARY. MAYBE IT SEEMS DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO JUST BE—TO JUST LET PEOPLE KNOW YOU WANT THEM, NEED THEM, FEEL LIKE, IN THIS VERY MOMENT, YOU WILL DIE IF YOU DO NOT SEE THEM, HOLD THEM, TOUCH THEM IN SOME WAY WHETHER ITS YOUR FEET ON THEIR THIGHS ON THE COUCH OR YOUR TONGUE IN THEIR MOUTH OR YOUR HEART IN THEIR HANDS.

 

BUT THERE IS NOTHING MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN BEING DESPERATE.

 

AND THERE IS NOTHING MORE RISKY THAN PRETENDING NOT TO CARE.

 

WE ARE YOUNG AND WE ARE HUMAN AND WE ARE BEAUTIFUL AND WE ARE NOT AS IN CONTROL AS WE THINK WE ARE. WE NEVER KNOW WHO NEEDS US BACK. WE NEVER KNOW THE MAGIC THAT CAN ARISE BETWEEN OURSELVES AND OTHER HUMANS.

 

WE NEVER KNOW WHEN THE BUS IS COMING."

by Rachel C. Lewis, Tell The People You Love That You Love Them

I’ve never really been good at small talk.

" I LOVE YOU BECAUSE THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE CONSPIRED TO HELP ME FIND YOU. "

by Paulo Coelho

" NOTHING COMPARES TO YOUR HANDS, NOTHING LIKE THE GREEN-GOLD OF YOUR EYES. MY BODY IS FILLED WITH YOU FOR DAYS AND DAYS. YOU ARE THE MIRROR OF THE NIGHT. THE VIOLENT FLASH OF LIGHTNING. THE DAMPNESS OF THE EARTH. THE HOLLOW OF YOUR ARMPITS IS MY SHELTER, MY FINGERTIPS TOUCH YOUR BLOOD. ALL MY JOY IS TO FEEL LIFE SPRING FROM YOUR FLOWER-FOUNTAIN THAT MINE KEEPS TO FILL ALL THE PATHS OF MY NERVES WHICH ARE YOURS. "

by Frida Kahlo, The Diary Of Frida Kahlo

" I AM THAT CLUMSY HUMAN, ALWAYS LOVING, LOVING, LOVING. AND LOVING. AND NEVER LEAVING. YOU ARE A STONE. WE WEEP TOGETHER AND MAKE A BED FOR RAIN. "

by Frida Kahlo, The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait

" SOMETIMES YOU MEET SOMEONE, AND IT’S SO CLEAR THAT THE TWO OF YOU, ON SOME LEVEL BELONG TOGETHER. AS LOVERS, OR AS FRIENDS, OR AS FAMILY, OR AS SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT. YOU JUST WORK, WHETHER YOU UNDERSTAND ONE ANOTHER OR YOU’RE IN LOVE OR YOU’RE PARTNERS IN CRIME. YOU MEET THESE PEOPLE THROUGHOUT YOUR LIFE, OUT OF NOWHERE, UNDER THE STRANGEST CIRCUMSTANCES, AND THEY HELP YOU FEEL ALIVE. I DON’T KNOW IF THAT MAKES ME BELIEVE IN COINCIDENCE, OR FATE, OR SHEER BLIND LUCK, BUT IT DEFINITELY MAKES ME BELIEVE IN SOMETHING. "

PEOPLE ALWAYS SAY THAT IT HURTS AT NIGHT

AND APPARENTLY SCREAMING INTO YOUR PILLOW AT 3AM

IS THE ROMANTIC EQUIVALENT OF BEING HEARTBROKEN.

 

BUT SOMETIMES

IT’S 9AM ON A TUESDAY MORNING

AND YOU’RE STANDING AT THE KITCHEN BENCH WAITING FOR THE TOAST TO POP UP

 

AND THE SMELL OF DUSTY SUNLIGHT AND EARL GRAY TEA MAKES YOU MISS HIM SO MUCH

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOUR HANDS.

 On Missing Them, Rosie Scanlan

 

" I WANT IN FACT MORE OF YOU. IN MY MIND I AM DRESSING YOU WITH LIGHT; I AM WRAPPING YOU UP IN BLANKETS OF COMPLETE ACCEPTANCE AND THEN I GIVE MYSELF TO YOU. I LONG FOR YOU; I WHO USUALLY LONG WITHOUT LONGING, AS THOUGH I AM UNCONSCIOUS AND ABSORBED IN NEUTRALITY AND APATHY, REALLY, UTTERLY LONG FOR EVERY BIT OF YOU. "

by Franz Kafka

" WE SPOKE ALL NIGHT IN TONGUES,

IN FINGERTIPS, IN TEETH.

" HE HURT ME MORE THAN ANYONE EVER HAS, BUT HE LOVED ME BETTER THAN ANYONE EVER DID, TOO. "

by Nyrae Dawn, Measuring Up

" CAN YOU REMEMBER WHO YOU WERE, BEFORE THE WORLD TOLD YOU WHO YOU SHOULD BE? "

by Danielle LaPorte

YOU ARE AT ONCE BOTH THE QUIET AND THE CONFUSION OF MY HEART. "

by Franz Kafka, from Letters To Felice

" SO I WROTE TO HER. LETTERS I NEVER SENT. LETTERS I THREW IN THE GUTTER OR FLASHED AWAY. - LIKE BOTTLES INTO THE SEA? - INTO AN OCEAN OF SHIT, MAYBE. NO, IT’S FAR MORE ROMANTIC. PICTURE IT: A HERMIT, A CAVE-DWELLER, WHO LIVES IN THE SEWERS, DISCOVERS THE LETTERS. HE COLLECTS THEM, READS THEM, THEN STARTS DREAMING. EVEN ENVIES THAT LOVE, PERHAPS. I THINK I WROTE A THOUSAND LETTERS, THAT TIME. I STILL REMEMBER THAT ROOM IN THAT LITTLE COTTAGE. ALL OF THIS IS OFF THE RECORD OF COURSE. I COULD’VE WRITTEN HER A SONG INSTEAD. NE ME QUITTE PAS, SOMETHING LIKE THAT. BELGIANS SPEAK SLOWLY BUT THEY KEEP IT SIMPLE. “WHERE ARE YOU?”, “WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?”, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” THOSE WERE QUESTIONS I’D ASK MYSELF WHEN I WOKE UP. THINKING OF HER. AND I’D GO TO BED…WITH THE SAME QUESTIONS. "

 

 " THERE ARE SOME PEOPLE, IF YOU’RE LUCKY, THAT WILL SORT OF FLOAT INTO YOUR LIFE, SURROUNDED BY SOME KIND OF OTHERWORLDLY GLOW AND YOU’LL FIND YOURSELF ASKING WHAT YOU’VE EVER, EVER DONE TO DESERVE TO EVEN, LIKE, LIVE ON THE SAME PLANET WITH SOMEONE WHO RADIATES SUCH LOVELINESS

 

" PEOPLE WHO BELIEVE THEY’LL BE HAPPY IF THEY GO AND LIVE SOMEWHERE ELSE, LEARN IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY. WHEREVER YOU GO, YOU TAKE YOURSELF WITH YOU. "

" HOW ARE YOU?

NO,

DON’T TELL ME THAT YOU’RE DOING GOOD

OR THAT YOU ARE FINE,

YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT YOU ARE SO FAR FROM BOTH OF THOSE THINGS,

TELL ME,

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU THOUGHT ABOUT DEATH?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED AND WHAT FINALLY MADE THE TEARS FALL AFTER ALL THAT TIME?

WHAT IS YOUR STORY OF LOSS?

WHAT WORDS BREAK YOU?

WHAT WORDS PUT YOU BACK TOGETHER?

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD THE DEPTH OF THE WORD “GOODBYE?”

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME THE ONLY THING YOU COULD DO WAS LAY ON THE FLOOR AND CRY BECAUSE NOTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD MADE SENSE BUT BROKENNESS?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REALLY AND TRULY LAUGHED?

CAN YOU REMEMBER THAT FAR BACK?

WHAT WAS ON YOUR MIND WHEN YOU GOT THOSE SCARS ON YOUR LEG?

WHAT LIES HAVE YOU BELIEVED LATELY?

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD WHAT “I LOVE YOU” MEANT?

WHO MADE YOU SO BROKEN?

HAVE YOU EVEN TRIED TO PUT YOURSELF BACK TOGETHER?

TELL ME,

TELL ME,

DO YOU LOVE YOURSELF?

HOW MUCH OF YOUR SKIN CAN YOU FIND CONSTELLATIONS IN?

HAVE YOU EVER TRIED TO UNDERSTAND YOUR EYES?

HAVE YOU PRESSED YOUR FINGERTIPS TO YOUR OWN LIPS HOPING NOTHING ELSE MATTERED IN THE WORLD IF YOUR LIPS WERE YOUR OWN?

HAVE YOU EVER MADE YOURSELF BELIEVE THE LIE THAT YOU AREN’T WORTH IT?

WHY?

HOW IS THE WEATHER IN YOUR HEART?

IS IT A HURRICANE OR A TSUNAMI?

IS THERE FOG SURROUNDING YOUR SOUL?

HAVE YOU EVER LOVED ANOTHER MORE THAN YOU LOVED TO BREATHE?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REALLY AND TRULY BELIEVED THAT YOUR LIFE WAS WORTH LIVING? "

by I’ve never really been good at small talk

" HOW ARE YOU?

NO,

DON’T TELL ME THAT YOU’RE DOING GOOD

OR THAT YOU ARE FINE,

YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT YOU ARE SO FAR FROM BOTH OF THOSE THINGS,

TELL ME,

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU THOUGHT ABOUT DEATH?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED AND WHAT FINALLY MADE THE TEARS FALL AFTER ALL THAT TIME?

WHAT IS YOUR STORY OF LOSS?

WHAT WORDS BREAK YOU?

WHAT WORDS PUT YOU BACK TOGETHER?

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD THE DEPTH OF THE WORD “GOODBYE?”

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME THE ONLY THING YOU COULD DO WAS LAY ON THE FLOOR AND CRY BECAUSE NOTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD MADE SENSE BUT BROKENNESS?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REALLY AND TRULY LAUGHED?

CAN YOU REMEMBER THAT FAR BACK?

WHAT WAS ON YOUR MIND WHEN YOU GOT THOSE SCARS ON YOUR LEG?

WHAT LIES HAVE YOU BELIEVED LATELY?

WHEN WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU UNDERSTOOD WHAT “I LOVE YOU” MEANT?

WHO MADE YOU SO BROKEN?

HAVE YOU EVEN TRIED TO PUT YOURSELF BACK TOGETHER?

TELL ME,

TELL ME,

DO YOU LOVE YOURSELF?

HOW MUCH OF YOUR SKIN CAN YOU FIND CONSTELLATIONS IN?

HAVE YOU EVER TRIED TO UNDERSTAND YOUR EYES?

HAVE YOU PRESSED YOUR FINGERTIPS TO YOUR OWN LIPS HOPING NOTHING ELSE MATTERED IN THE WORLD IF YOUR LIPS WERE YOUR OWN?

HAVE YOU EVER MADE YOURSELF BELIEVE THE LIE THAT YOU AREN’T WORTH IT?

WHY?

HOW IS THE WEATHER IN YOUR HEART?

IS IT A HURRICANE OR A TSUNAMI?

IS THERE FOG SURROUNDING YOUR SOUL?

HAVE YOU EVER LOVED ANOTHER MORE THAN YOU LOVED TO BREATHE?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REALLY AND TRULY BELIEVED THAT YOUR LIFE WAS WORTH LIVING? "

by I’ve never really been good at small talk

" YOU WILL BURN AND YOU WILL BURN OUT; YOU WILL BE HEALED AND COME BACK AGAIN. "

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky