It’s right here that most people apologize like crazy. They feel terrible. They were trying to figure out how to navigate the labyrinth of your wonderful story. It’s like holding a tiny flash light in a cave of a new world. They didn’t mean to provoke those old wounds. They didn’t mean to poke fun at your dreams. They considered it an honor that they held the key, even for a few frenzied moments.
Intimacy takes work, trust, wounds, hurts, sculpting in the dark: and that takes time. It takes more than a single chance. Of course we can close the doors, at any second, when we know it just won’t work. But there are many opportunities if we had trusted a little longer, reset the tempo, and spoke up louder: it would’ve been okay. Bridges would be built. New stories are made. You find your hand closing around theirs. They begin to traverse the folds of your heart with ease, and they learn to say those things which give life, which give freedom, which grow dreams. Intimacy is formed out of stumbling, but further down the path: there is so much light, so much laughter, so many steps to the horizon together.
Anyone can yell from a fence; how about getting in the mess?
— J.S. (via jspark3000)
— Nick Redd (via thatkindofwoman)
So, akala ko okay na kami ng tiyan ko. Pero dahil pumapak na naman ako ng kape at maanghang na pagkain, ayuun, umaalma na naman ang maarte kong tiyan.
So, umuwi nalang ako at umabsent sa trabaho dahil ayokong magsusuka doon sa school (sintomas ng dyspepsia, by the way, di ako preggy hoyy). Mahirap nang ma-issuehan na buntis. Baka magkaroon ng World War Z at bigla kong matapon yung napkin kong suot2x as of the moment.
— Things I Wish My Mother Had Taught Me (via nonelikejesus)