Sometimes you need to remind yourself that you were the one who carried you through the heartache. You are the one who sits with the cold body on the shower floor, and picks it up. You are the one who feeds it, who clothes it, who tucks it into bed, and you should be proud of that. Having the strength to take care of yourself when everyone around you is trying to bleed you dry, that is the strongest thing in the universe.
I absolutely needed to read that.
awwww babygirl rhinestonelives <3
I love the tag #a couple of my rl friends need to read this
Winter is almost over. You have come so far, but there are still lessons to be learnt.
Stop revelling in brokenness. Your life will outlast that feeling and you will be the one left to pick up the pieces of the things you destroyed in your petulant, self-destructive outburst.
Small kindnesses. It will take you a lifetime to really appreciate the value and meaning of those two words. Unlike all your pretty words and poetry, it’s a simple philosophy, but it’s the only one that truly matters. Stop being arrogant, take your head out of the clouds and be unfailingly kind.
And you must stop wishing away the winter. Find beauty in the black trees against the ashen sky, in early blue twilights and in bright, cold mornings.
Keep things tidy. This goes for your room as well as your thoughts. You might occasionally think yourself above cleaning, but living like a bohemian among empty whisky bottles and cigarette packets does not make you interesting. It makes you a mess.
For the love of whatever you pray to, say true things. Say them fearlessly and with a steady voice. You look life directly in the face and you tell it that you will not be silent anymore."
"I want to leave this city. I want to breathe different air, air unburdened by the smoke of too much traffic and the choking scent of other people’s desperation. Where’s the train that can take me to the timeless, universal Home? That place where you’re not who you were or who you are… you’re something else entirely. You’re a young woman who doesn’t care about late trains and disappointment, and doesn’t know what it is to flee."
There will come a time when you want to cut off all your hair. Do it. Realise that the thing you want rid of doesn’t lie in the long curls that frame your face so perfectly. Live with short hair for a while. It’ll grow.
You won’t always want to talk to people. That’s okay. When it’s late and you hear your friends talking in the next room, you don’t have to join them. You’re allowed your solitude. It makes company sweeter and it teaches you how to survive alone. You will need that skill.
In the winter, you’ll believe that nothing will ever grow again. You’re wrong. Every year, London looks like it’s on its last legs, wheezing through those last cold days in March. Every year, spring comes like an explosion and the city shakes off its sleep.
Mundane problems will get the better of you sometimes. Don’t worry. Try as you might, life cannot be an endless, beautiful, intense moment. Find comfort in money worries and late trains; they’re a welcome rest in between heartbreaks and breakdowns.
People will call you a cynic, a wry smile on their faces. Pay them no mind. You alone know that you are capable of a love greater than anything they can comprehend. You alone know that you are not willing to sell your identity and respect to the first smirking halfwit to pass by. It is not cynicism. It is reverence for your own vast and fathomless heart, and it makes sense only to love someone who understands that and is awed by it.
You will not always get what you want when you want it. Accept it. Your goals are not set in stone and you are not on a fixed trajectory. Sometimes, life will take its time and you will have to play the long, interminable game. Play it well and with as much grace as you can muster. Live at your own pace.
At night, you will occasionally wake up afraid, wanting to die. Don’t give in. Night plays its tricks, but you are not so easily fooled. Your mind will play its tricks, too. It will make you believe that you’re not who you are, but you must not give in. You take a breath and you tell yourself that you are here. That you always were."
Take a breath-
It hasn’t even begun.
I’ve watched your struggle
in a world not of your making.
I’ve watched your tears fall
and make the ground shake.
I’ve heard your solitary cries
desperate for understanding.
I have felt your suffering vibrate
on a starless night when you
wanted to give up and yet
you know you are not finished your journey.
Let go of the past and use it to teach,
Find your culture and use it to find,
stop questing for love that is not
worth a single stone upon the altar
of the ancestors and souls of the lost.
Let go of ego and just be…
Stop being afraid of judgment.
Be what you were destined to be.
This poem is from Wanda John-Kehewin’s upcoming poetry book In the Dog House.