You can choose what kind of tree you want to become
Idk I just find this beautiful
just imagine cemeteries looking like this
a forest of living, changing, beautiful trees. I think a tombstone holds much more finality in death than a tree. It’s like you are living on symbolically through something greater than yourself.
this is a serious post about how much I want this. I’ll make sure my family knows.
Half of me into a tree, and half of me into the sea.
Discussing the Word of God with the Man you love is everything. There is nothing that feels better than that. I love how God brings the greatest things together when you allow him. I love that he is the center of our relationship. It is so obvious how important it is to be equally yoked as well as in alignment with The Lord. I speak it into existence that my union with my soon to be husband will be powerful. Blessed. And that it will change lives. Amen.
Marry your best friend. I do not say that lightly. Really, truly find the strongest, happiest friendship in the person you fall in love with. Someone who speaks highly of you. Someone you can laugh with. The kind of laughs that make your belly ache, and your nose snort. The embarrassing, earnest, healing kind of laughs. Wit is important. Life is too short not to love someone who lets you be a fool with them. Make sure they are somebody who lets you cry, too. Despair will come. Find someone that you want to be there with you through those times. Most importantly, marry the one that makes passion, love, and madness combine and course through you. A love that will never dilute - even when the waters get deep, and dark.
My heart shakes.
My eyes tear through the darkness.
I just woke up from the scariest dream I’ve ever conjured up.
Bits and pieces of memories.
Of real life and imaginary things
All pooled into a one 1-hour scene
In my mind.
So now when I open my eyes
Fifteen minutes later in real time
My body is shook to its core.
How do I control what I dream?
My little brother used to control his.
He’d say he could open and close the door to good or bad every night.
I wish I was that way.
So that I could simply tell the hallucinations to go away.
Now I’m stuck with the mental image of that dark place.
And, ironically, I have the pleasure of remembering every detail of it.
Every emotion and sound.
And that never happens.
My love had to come to me
In the middle of the night
Just so I could calm down.
And when he came all I could do was cry in his arms.
All I could do was cry.
I’m going to start a record collection. And buy a record player lol. Can’t forget about that last part hahaha.
The art of love has humble beginnings
Strokes of diligence and fight.
Beads of blood and sweat drip from the head and the hands
Of those who give themselves to the work
To the patience
To the heart of the beauty of it.
And when the talk of those who don’t believe
And who honestly don’t care, begin to creep their way into your thoughts
Kindly remind them that what you fight for daily
Yields more than what you will ever put into it
Tell them that the stripes of love are intensely bold.
That it rectifies all wrongs and brings new strength to beaten bones.
Tell them that the art of love is deeper than it’s canvas.
More beautiful than it’s picture.
And incredibly worthy of the power it holds.
- someone: *says something*
- me: breaks into a song with a word they just said