You’ll trust people and you won’t question their intentions because they seem pure and fun. You’ll them about everything you’re looking for, what you appreciate and what you hate and they’ll turn themselves into the person you wanted them to be. During all that time, you’ll be thinking it’s who they were in the first place. You will try to be that generous in sharing your self again. In a world of undefined truths and lies, you’ll struggle to recognize which parts were theirs to begin with, and which they stole from you.

You’ll try to remember what was it that you said. as it the tone you said it in, the look you gave when you did? You’ll never remember, there was nothing to remember in the first place. Bad people don’t need a trigger, they will actively seek and find evil anywhere, just as good people passively see beauty and virtue and goodness, in the little thing and in others and in the world. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. It’s not your fault. Never will be.

“Tell them I was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold.”

Well, shit, tried to, motherfucker.

♪ You said you’d die for me! Give to me, give to me! Why won’t you live for me?! ♪

You’ll remember them saying they’d do anything for you, however, when given the chance…

Them saying they’re willing to give you the world, however, unable to give you the only thing you ever wanted and asked for: the truth.

i can nourish myself on nothing but truth – Therese of Lisieux

A woman walking by is telling her friend, age doesn’t necessarily equal maturity. I agree. Maturity doesn’t necessarily just come with age either. If what you’ve built is based on lies, sooner or later, it’ll crumble in front of your eyes.

You’ll remember them asking if you liked how childlike they were. Thinking they were referring to the playfulness, the laughs, finding joy in the little things, living like there’s no tomorrow, that characterize kids, you’ll say yes, of course.

Later, you will find out they were referring to their fantasy reality, and asking if you enjoyed being there with them. A charming paper house the one they built, can’t live inside though.

Huge thank you to Natalie Patterson for being so open and vulnerable in her writing and work, inspiring me and thousands of others to do the same.

A variation of that sentence has been on my mind the whole day.

I’m a writer: outside events, and internal turmoil directly affect my art and my work. Everything that happens to me, good or bad or simultaneously good and bad, can be written on a piece of paper or fill a blank screen, then edited ruthlessly enough for me and the editor of that publication to deem it worthy of others’ eyeballs and time.

*As* things are happening to me, I think of a combination of words and sentence structures that will correctly convey what’s happening, what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking, my truth.

When people read something I’ve written about and tell me they’ve felt that way too, that a piece I wrote resonated with them a lot, it just reaffirms my belief that my feelings, situations, knowledge aren’t just mine anymore and I don’t claim full ownership over them.

“Woman with long hair covered with a blue blindfold in Scarborough” by Oscar Keys

So focused on finding those words that make my truth your own, that I won’t ever be able to fully experience anything again.

That sounds sad, but I’m grateful I get to speak my mind and make others feel something, just as I’m grateful I’ve found so many writers and creators who give *me* The Feelz, whose work has brought so much to my life.

Strangely, knowing we share the same struggles, insecurities, fears, makes us much stronger.

Surely, there have to be worse things than getting your heart broken into a thousand pieces.

There’s famine, war, disease. There are people that don’t have a place to stay at night, live through the hard times another day. Some people abuse and rape and kill others. Babies are born dead. There’s so much injustice that it breaks your heart on a daily basis. A friend of mine’s father passed away. Some days later, his partner was diagnosed with cancer.

“The essence of anything is shaped by the feeling it evokes.”

Damn these walls.

I think, surely, logically, irrevocably, unquestionably, there have to be worse things than getting your heart broken. In a thousand pieces. Again.

Yet, at least now, I can’t come up with a satisfying answer as to what.

Yesterday it rained and rained; today, sunshine and clear skies.

Yes, still comparing weather conditions to my heart.

Still reminiscing over one of my hard-learned, all-time favorite lessons: knowing even though it’s not all fine now, all will be fine soon.

I taste my coffee, it’s strong and smooth.

Like our hearts.

Like us.

Disclaimer: This was written some time ago, my heart’s no longer broken. 

When I said I talk myself out of it, I meant it. Here’s the thing. I’ve been meaning to start doing this, theoretically, since years ago, realistically, since last week. These past few weeks I’ve come across some amazing writing/work/people, but unfortunately, as Benjamin P. Hardy put it:

For most people, learning has become an escape from doing. Filling your head with useless information is the opposite of hard-won wisdom and understanding, which can only happen via the application of knowledge and re-application based on experience in the real world.

I’m one of those people.

Sometimes you get lucky and end up at that part of the internet, the one filled with wisdom, authenticity, amazing studies and amazing people, so pure, so raw, so genuine that it fills you up with joy and hope. Wrapped up in others’ brilliance, you forget. At least I do.

Elephants don’t forget, but we do. Photo by Simson Petrol.

The brilliance I stumbled upon isn’t mine to claim. 

No matter how amazing the art is, how good the podcast is, how that piece of writing gives you goosebumps every 100 words, how that song has been on repeat for days (and probably will be for weeks), how that guided meditation made you sob (does every time), how that movie spoke *directly* to you and validated your experiences and feelings in a way you hadn’t known was possible before… it’s not yours. You can (and should) feel joy and maybe even pride over others’ art, but you shouldn’t use it as a substitute for your own creations.

Now the other thing… Cal Newport says on his (great) book Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World:

This provides another general observation for joining the ranks of winners in our economy: If you don’t produce, you won’t thrive — no matter how skilled or talented you are.

I usually read on my Kindle, and highlight my favorite passages there, but I’ve written that one down. I need to get it tattooed on my forehead as well.

If you don’t produce, you won’t thrive.

Why I find it SO hard to grasp that concept, is beyond me. I think it’s because when you don’t absolutely HAVE TO, as is the case with me and writing for myself/the world and not clients, you can just say I’ll do it later/tomorrow/on the weekend/on my next lifetime.

So,

1. Create your own art.
2. Create your art.