look at me,
I’m spread all over the
canvas of my life;
I create, imitate, participate;
I do the work and then some.
Look at me.
You should pay attention
at the inflection of my voice
and the glimmer in my eyes;
I could vanish at any given moment.
I’m worn out and, oh, my, so exhausted.
I want to stop for a moment,
I want the whole world to pause.
Can we stay in bed, just for tonight?
Lick each other’s wounds?
Kiss every bruise?
Lovely visitor, can we go to bed naked and hold each other…
I love it when you call me beautiful;
you stare at me, and you gasp,
and if your phone rings
you pick up to tell them,
“Sorry, I can't make it,
something important came up tonight”
I love it when we stay home all day long
and we play and laugh,
a devilish kind of tickling going between us;
don’t you sometimes wish we could renounce the world
and be each other playdate till forever and a day more?
I love it when we kiss because it always feels like the first time — we spent so much of life…
I was severely overweight. And I snored. And, according to him, I smelled. He made a point of making an ugly face when he said that.
He told me all of this because he had decided he would no longer sleep in the same bed as I did. “I rather sleep on the couch,” he explained.
Being someone who appreciates the value of a good night's sleep, it would have been enough for me to know he wanted to sleep comfortably. My issue was with his choice of words. Listening to him, it seemed his goal was to hurt me.
I sit in front of my computer and type.
The white screen is soon covered with symbols. They represent my ideas, my tears, my sweat…my confessions.
I finish my piece, do some editing, and then send my words off into the world, so they can find a generous stranger who is willing to give them a home, even if it is just for a few minutes.
But it isn’t that easy anymore, right? Was it ever?
Turns out, nowadays, unless you want to find yourself screaming into the void, there’s a whole lot of things you have to do.
another day has clocked by;
we didn’t talk,
we didn’t kiss,
we barely looked at each other.
Now we have gone to bed
and everything we didn’t say
adds another brick
to the wall among us.
I know you can feel it too;
the magical place we built
keeps getting dark and cold
under our very noses.
We always assumed
this passion would be our shelter,
it would guard us
from the outer world’s insensibility.
But love needs some protection too.
Love needs nurturing,
kisses on the cheek,
and playful teasing.
Our love needs us to take care…
The strange thing about life, the wondrous thing about life, is that it is impossible to dull one hue of our emotional experience without dulling the entire spectrum, impossible to feel deeply at one end of it without feeling as deeply at the other. And without the chromatic intensity of feeling life deeply and fully, why live at all? — Maria Popova
If you wish to be a productive and respectable member of our society, you must remember how to conduct yourself in all areas of your ever public life. Remember, nothing is private anymore. …
Your little child has grown. His round face is now thinning out; his voice is changing and, oh, yes, he wants to eat the same three things:
Yes, he was always kind of a picky eater, but you still managed to get some variety into his diet. Some vegetables here, some fruit there. A bit of fish from time to time. You knew better than to be pushy. You wanted to help him establish good nutritional habits without generating food anxiety.