heavy mental
I don’t know your story or your dreams or the things that steal your sleep, but I know they matter. I hope you story is rich with characters, rich with friends and conversation. I hope you know some people who carry you, and I hope you have the honor of carrying them. I hope that there’s beauty in your memories, and I hope it doesn’t haunt you. And if it does, then I hope there is someone who will walk you through the night and remind you of the promise of the sunrise, that beauty keeps coming, that there are futures worth waiting and fighting for, and that you were made to dream.
I have been a haunted house. I have had things die but stay and I didn’t know how to make them leave. And there were certainly times I didn’t want them to leave because they were beautiful. They were no longer real but they were beautiful. They were bridges to brighter days. I thought they were my dreams.
Reality is the best place to live. Reality is where healing happens. In the honest light and by the voices of our friends.
We all have our past. We all have our pain. We will all know ghosts from time to time. But if our life is like a building, then we should open our floors to let some people see inside. Into our darkest places, into those rooms that hold our fears and dreams, we will begin to go together. Friends with hope like candles, telling ghosts to go.
It is simply a confession that with all that I've seen in the last few years, all the events I've been invited to, and all the people whom I've met, I am less and less impressed by "impressive" things or people who are presented as having things figured out. I am impressed by people who are honest and kind. I am inspired by moments of vulnerability, moments of confession and compassion, moments where someone makes it clear that they are a person in need of other people and someone else makes it clear that the first person is not alone.
(с)
I have been a haunted house. I have had things die but stay and I didn’t know how to make them leave. And there were certainly times I didn’t want them to leave because they were beautiful. They were no longer real but they were beautiful. They were bridges to brighter days. I thought they were my dreams.
Reality is the best place to live. Reality is where healing happens. In the honest light and by the voices of our friends.
We all have our past. We all have our pain. We will all know ghosts from time to time. But if our life is like a building, then we should open our floors to let some people see inside. Into our darkest places, into those rooms that hold our fears and dreams, we will begin to go together. Friends with hope like candles, telling ghosts to go.
It is simply a confession that with all that I've seen in the last few years, all the events I've been invited to, and all the people whom I've met, I am less and less impressed by "impressive" things or people who are presented as having things figured out. I am impressed by people who are honest and kind. I am inspired by moments of vulnerability, moments of confession and compassion, moments where someone makes it clear that they are a person in need of other people and someone else makes it clear that the first person is not alone.
(с)