I’ve flown away from California for a while to visit some people, but I’ll still be able to post. I was talking to a friend about a project she’s working on and I got some more writing ideas from it. Some stories, possibly, which is what I’ve been saying I need to do for a while now… While I’m away, I plan to do some exploring and find relaxing and peaceful images for you. Maybe you can guess where I am from them. I feel excellent today, and I hope it lasts. Please have a blessed day, and don’t forget you’re never alone. There’s always someone willing to listen and help.
I’ve been lurking on my Facebook (not feeling too social) this past week and found a lot of posts about being strong and how crying makes one weak. Crying is a natural bodily function. Crying is cleansing; not only does it rid your eyes of harmful debris, but it can also cleanse the soul. It’s not a girl thing nor a boy thing, but it seems like we as humans are intent on making those who weep openly feel less than the human they are, and that’s incredibly rude. When did crying become unexceptable? Why do we see men who cry as weak, or women who cry as beneath us and ‘just another over-emotional female’? Go ahead and cry. Find that person who’ll be there for you to lean on and cry until you’ve let it all out. Release yourself from that depressing burden; that horrid work day, your mother-in-law constantly reminding you how unworthy you are, that feeling of being surrounded by ‘friends’ only to find out they were enemies all along, the inability to find a job, the feeling of loneliness as you watch happy couples… Whatever it may be, don’t feel embarrassed about needing to cry. A good movie, a good book, a hot cup of coffee or hot chocolate or tea, a nice warm blanket, a trusted confidant if you have one, and let out all that frustration. All the anger and hurt and confusion and weight on your shoulders; let it fall away. Anyone who tries to make you feel inferior, weak, embarrassed, stupid, unworthy, etc, is not meant to be in your life. You need to find a place to begin healing and the attitudes they bring will only hinder you. Losing a friend is never easy, and I won’t lie, you’re going to lose a lot when you decide to do better. Once you find that person who refuses to let you fall, keep them around. It will get hard on them, so if they seem tired, please understand, but let them know, at all times, how much it means to you. Who knows, maybe they need a shoulder to cry on, as well, but are keeping it to themselves to make sure you always have someone on whom to rely.
Being strong doesn’t mean you never cry. Being strong means crying when you have to, releasing those burdens, and blazing a path for those who are where you used to be to follow you to a better place. It won’t be easy, but I know we can get there together, eventually.
When someone opens up to you; tells you that they feel like they’re lost, useless, deformed, etc, why are they dismissed? They trust in you enough to lay bare secrets and scars and get torn down even more. They’re lonely, they feel forgotten, they need someone, and they find you. Don’t turn them away. ‘You’ll get over it,’ ‘Someone’s got it worse,’ ‘You’re so dramatic,’ ‘Not this again,’ are just a few ways to ensure they’ll never open up to you again. And why should they? You’ve basically done what every other person has done after you claimed you were different. They went to someone who told them that, no matter what, they would be there for them, wouldn’t let them be alone, would encourage them, would be there to talk to… You used to talk all the time, they’d tell you every good idea or trouble they had, and suddenly they stopped. They seem different since they told you what was going on in their mind; more distant and sad. Trying to come back to life and continue living is difficult when you’re alone and even more so when the person you love and trust kicks you farther down.
We’re all in this together. Somehow we have to find a way to lift each other up. We have to stop dismissing the lost and forlorn because we are uncomfortable or don’t understand. If you’re unsure what to do there are places to go that can help your loved ones and help you reach them. Do not turn away someone who came to you under the belief that you were to be trusted and would help guide them out of the dark; you may be all there is keeping them alive.
Rain always makes me happy. The clouds make me feel safe; like I’m sheltered from the doubts that run wild on any other day. I feel clean and open. Rainy days make me feel like I can do all the things that frighten me and come out unscathed. Maybe I’ll sit down one day and dive deeper into my love of rain… But not today… There’s a notebook I want to find.
What is left of a paper heart?
After all your cares have fallen apart.
How does it beat day after day?
Left lonely and forgotten there at halfway.
How do you mend a paper heart?
How do you find a beat that’s been lost?
The paper hearts of paper dreams,
Torn apart and left to bleed,
The dreams you had of better days,
Lying in pieces wasting away.
Wasting away into paper roses,
A paper rose for every lie and broken promise.
What becomes of paper petals?
After the burning ash has settled.
How does it beat, the paper hearts of paper doves?
So beautifully poisoned by human foxgloves.
Peeling burnt hands cover your face,
Wondering how long your heart’s been up in flames.
What happens when the flames die down?
Is it possible for a new love to be found?
One day it might know,
That paper heart that’s been turned to snow.
Until One Day decides to appear,
I’ll be sweeping away these paper tears.
Another breath leads to another day,
Another chance to end it in another way.
Day by day they haunt the streets,
Performing the day’s normality’s.
They face the world with practiced smiles,
While inside they’re miles away in their own desert isle.
But truth can’t hide in vacant eyes,
A barren landscape of untold lies.
When our day ends,
Their nightmare begins.
A once cotton haven so comforting and warm,
Has become a side-less coffin where lost souls mourn.
In the dusk and dark their fears reside,
Down covered fangs come to eat them alive.
Family and friends beg and plead,
“One more night, just hold on, please.”
They ask the everyday heroes constantly busy,
“Is there anyone out there who can save me?”
One more night one more day one more sun one more moon,
Begging the Savior of Sinners to end it soon.
They try and try to fake a lie,
Find a way to come alive.
They reach for the hand of the Chosen One,
Trying to cease what had already begun.
From the damned and the broken,
And the tried and the trodden,
Come voices the world has forgotten,
So fragile and broken,
Words scorned and stricken,
With wrists slit and souls shaken,
They’re taken in with one simple question,
From someone who cared enough to stay beside them,
In their self-made dungeon,
“My little slain souls lost in exile,
Once so bright and amazingly vital,
Will you come take my hand my suicidal revival?”