Nothing is permanent.
Relationships come to an end, and connections eventually disconnect. That’s the way it goes. That’s the flow of life. Eventually, there is no more energy left to latch onto or emit. The common vibration is gone and so it’s time to move on.
Maybe the secret to relationships is realizing that they are all going to come to an end, there will always be a time to say goodbye. Maybe if we were all just real with each other about the way things go we’d get along better.
Look at the way we project our vision all…
Remember when we’d get scraped up, as kids?
Remember how our parents put band-aids on us and once we were all patched up we went back out to play? Not thinking twice about our wounds. We’ve gotten older but we’re still doing the same thing. Placing band-aids over our wounds.
The physical and emotional ones (especially the emotional ones). We pay the closest attention to them in their earliest stages, when they’re too raw to avoid But once we have adjusted to the pain, we begin to ignore them and bandage them up. …
I witnessed a conversation between two women who were bonding over the beatings they used to get as kids. Their eyes would light up whenever they discovered a similar motive behind a particular beating.
They bonded deeply over the told they were both beaten with. If you weren’t standing as close as was, you would actually think this conversation was lighthearted. These two women, trading war stories affectionately.
They laughed harder as they brushed off their parents’ rage. And as they started talking about their relationships they remained completely oblivious to how their partners mirrored their lovers.
And their cycles…
I met a man during quarantine.
We had a conversation where he openly admitted to me that he purposely cheated on his longtime girlfriend (who he “made sure” to get pregnant) with an ex from high school who’d broken his heart, just to get her pregnant as solace for his pain.
He said he wanted to make sure she was stuck to him for the rest of her life. And she is. And I’ve heard that before, from too many men. He wanted to ruin her life with a baby that would tie her to him (and him to her)…
I stand here bare.
Removing every piercing, tracing every tattoo. My tattoos were replacement flesh for the parts of myself that I refused to love. Band-aids for the scars. My piercings served to make me look beautiful where I felt ordinary. At one point in time, I thought mutilation was the secret to beauty. Bare with me, I had not yet learned that beautiful was ordinary.
Those lessons began when I removed the makeup. The fabrics. The hair. The eyes I used. The things that weren’t me. And I started spending time with my scars. Learning to love my physical…