what's bigger - the pain or the love?

Don't forget the big picture.
it's so easy nowadays to lose ourselves in unrealistic perceptions and ideals of perfection we'll never be able to reach.
A flower shouldn't be sad for not being a tree
the same way a tree shouldn't be sad for carrying apples.
We are who we are.
Humans come in all shapes and sizes.
Both our body and our spirit.
Think of the universe.
Picture the milky way.
Picture different galaxies the size of an ant.
Picture an ant.
Think of the way sunrays break through water.
Remember the smell of cinnamon and the kiss of a loved one.
Now, does it still matter?
Is it as powerful as the magic of life itself?
Because it is so fucking easy to forget that being alive is a gift, and everything that's on top of it
should be considered unspeakable value.
Life is something to fall in love with.

about the ones with the fire eyes

there are certain people who light up your world with their darkness.
they've been burned.
not once, not twice, no
they've walked on fire a hundred times,
the flames are still lingering in the back of their neck,
and the corner of their eyes.
but see, they are an australian desert plant
they need fire to blossom
they need to be destroyed until they've completely turned to ashes, so they can grow taller than they've ever been.
they're hurting, but deep down
they know.
and when they recover from their personal storm,
the bullet holes in their body are exploding like little volcanos, spitting out unconditional love
and they tell tales with the eyes of a firecracker to let the cracks of their soul burn
And the second you look into these eyes
you know
they are dancing in a different kind of hell

self love and leather couches

I prefer old furniture and second hand clothes and grey worn out shoes with holes

I like the broken gate and the uneven street and the house that has flowers and other plants growing up its walls.

Because each hole and every scratch just shows they've been used.

They were needed

And they suffered

But they still are.

One day, when i'll have a house i'll let the trees grow in whatever directions they grow, and i won't stop plants from climbing up my rooftop, and i will put that old brown leather couch in my living room that i've found in the back corner of a second hand market, and i will love it all.

I don't need new and i don't need clean and neat and perfect.

i just need my couch to tell me that you can be loved despite flaws

and like i will love my old couch i will love myself

with scratches and cuts in the leather

--

 

chin up

you haven't moved for thirty one minutes now.

your voice has gone lost somewhere in your throat, i'm starting to think that we should go looking for it, its dark in there. of the darkness, the swallowing, bewildering disappearance of light we both are aware, 
and we know that it lives behind our eyes and underneath our hair, and we shouldn't begin to compare this and that, because worry takes breath and we can't pay the air 

your arms have now buried your face in disguise,
while your heart shrinks to the size of a tennis ball
that's thrown around and kicked through the hall and forgotten somewhere in the corner of some wall,
the blanket wrapped around your body as if it could protect you from your insides, 
and the butterflies in your stomach have been murdered by all the world's misery
that leaves you no choice but to curl up to a tiny lump of nothingness 
and your being feels just as forgettable

you're still breathing,

but are you really?

the room, the bed,

it seems like a still life, as if we're a painting, not moving, not changing,

but not all emotions are trapped while framing the helpless attempt to avoid the unbearable
i'm still here. 

and i see them

with cuts underneath their eyes in twenty two shades of dangerous

and you have to hold your breath to check if your lungs even want to keep on doing it

silently hoping they don't?

but they do

and i see those monstrous creatures, with their claws tearing on you from all sides and places

where only hope divides in second chances,

but we wanted to find trees
as high as the rooftops of every city,
and on these branches we'd seize and capture 
this fulfilling breeze of 
a brand new chapter

so please hold on to that one thing, that one string of loveliness they haven't taken yet,
i know sadness is a danger, but believing is a threat 

how many times have they tested and tried

to stab me from behind

when i wasn't even a body,

and you pressed my head against your chest until they left,

until my lips were able to form a silent 'i love you'

and my fingertips drew little circles on your back,

because love is as infinite as pain.

when i was my nothing, i was still your everything,

and that goes both ways,

the best thing about me is you

so chin up
i believe in you too