"A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people."
Thomas Mann (via quotesandnonsense)

Halfway from everything, halfway to nothing

I come from this strange place halfway between land and water, halfway between child and adult. Where the boys they blur together with their confused hands and their sweet smiles they might just disappear if you reach out to touch one. And the girls, we’re all just faces, rotating on a wall, pinned up and taken down, changing with the seasons and the whims of those dimpled fairy boy kings, my heart couldn’t take the roller coaster. So I tore myself down, I leapt out into the wind and I jumped and as I fluttered down I caught the ghost-like smiles of all those girls I was leaving behind it was as if they were frozen there. And my hands were holding theirs so I was being stretched, stretched as I fell down and away but it was just one big giant boomerang because inevitably I came crashing back to you. My make-shift jet-pack came to a screeching halt right at your feet and I paused just long enough for you to stamp your magnetism onto my passport, so that when I tried to leave and I tried to run away they wouldn’t let me - I couldn’t alight on the next patch of land, the next patch of boyish charms because they could see that you were still all over me. You were painted onto the backs of my eyelids in a sunspot that just kept growing every time I closed my eyes, so that eventually you became so bright that I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t blink without knowing that you were just behind every door that I tried so hard to force shut. And so I camouflaged myself in the hopes that your charms wouldn’t recognize me, I grew to inhabit this body that even I don’t know anymore, don’t feel familiar with. And I’m not saying that’s all you - far from it. But I think that part of me was at least hoping that as long as this is who I am, I wouldn’t have to think about you anymore because you would be so far away, so removed. 
But you see I come from this strange place that’s halfway between wanting and loathing. I can see you coming from a mile away and its as if I’m simultaneously motionless, waiting, and running as fast as I can to get away but not getting anywhere. I come from this place that’s in the middle of where the sea meets the sky - I can see that place, just off in the distance, but it’s not within my reach, it’s not quite tangible. And sometimes it’s all that I want, just to dive right on in and swim and swim until I see nothing but blue. But blue isn’t the only colour that matters anymore, and I would be lying if I said that it was. There are the greens and the greys and the beautiful, oh-so-present reds. I wish that I could lay them all out in a great big lake, tinge the waters with their vibrant hues, dip my toes into the effervescent depths. Then maybe I’d find you, the real you, waiting under the water, just effortlessly floating right below me. You would wave and as I held my breath I would be counting your freckles, each new one I found would be an extra second that I could spend with you down there in those silently beautiful waters. 
But all that’s no good, because I come from this strange place that’s halfway between breathing and holding your breath. Halfway between crossing your fingers and making your own fate. Halfway between not giving a fuck and crying into my pillow in the dead of night because I know that in five years you might have forgotten me or I might be your everything. Or, even worse, I might be here, still, halfway from everything, halfway to nothing. 

Looking Forwards to April

This month is going to be quite busy, so my goals for it have to reflect that. I can’t take on too much or I will get overwhelmed - I need to prioritize my health and my sanity before anything else.
So, this month I hope to: 
practice meditation
cook simple meals
take more walks in nature
pick up running once more
take the time to keep in touch with loved ones far away
I’m going to leave it at that for now, but wish me luck, and I hope April will be a good month! 

"You are enough. Paint it on your mirrors, on the back of your eyelids, drown it in your stomach, sing it in every word you say. You are never too much. Eat your food, sleep eight hours, walk like you love yourself. You are enough. Say it in your sleep, mantras to carry you through your day. There is never enough of you. You are a thirst that is never quenched. I crave you when you’re away. I love every piece of you. But I cannot make you love yourself."
Michelle K., You Are Enough.  (via cold-winter-days)
#100happydays #early #morning #skye

#100happydays #early #morning #skye

Sometimes… okay, a lot of the time, ALL I want is to be part of an English romance novel. Just once. 

You are every

If I close my eyes for long enough, I see your smile imprinted on the backs of my lids.
When I try to conjure an image of the rest of your face, it’s blurry, but your smile is so clear.
It’s like sunshine invading my lonely little mind and somehow, despite every single doubt I battle with every single day, despite all of my overwhelming insecurities, when it comes to you, I am so sure.
Because you are every remedy to the darkest thoughts, all the pure, fierce, venomous fear.
You are every tide, pulling me back out to sea, back out to where the wind and the rain and the waves can soothe me.
You are every jagged edge I hold on to, scaling my way up these mountains of mislead challenges, misunderstood directions.
But it doesn’t matter if I get lost because you are every star filling the great big looming sky that leads me back home, or at least a little bit closer to you.
Because home isn’t defined in the wood and stone and sweat and courage and carefully collected pennies that make up the place that I was born in, or raised in, or live in.
Those places are important too but you, you and your glorious smile make up the constellations that I return to at night, in that special space in time where no thought is forbidden, no love banished.
And the stardust is all around us, it is the shimmer that coats our hopes and our dreams so that even the untrained eye can see that they’re worth holding on to, fighting for.
You are every grain of sand and salt and dust, every particle that collectively makes up any country I happen to be standing in, that tinges the air of the sunsets and the sunrises I see with their brilliant colour, that form the clouds that litter the sky on a perfect July day and make me think of daisies, mountains, hope.
You are every perfect snowflake, symmetrical, intricate, landing on the tip of my tongue but disappearing before I’ve even noticed you’re there.
You’re every half-forgotten thought in the blur of the morning, the thoughts that are part dream, part genius and you know that if you could just remember, you would be stumbling onto something that captures the essence of beauty itself.
But by the time you open your eyes, it’s gone, you’re gone.
You’re every planet in the galaxies, dancing just outside our periphery, at that place that’s not quite infinite, not quite forever away.
You’re the place where the time goes in those blink-and-in-a-moment-it’s-gone happy spring weeks, when the sun tickles the hair at the base of my neck and it’s time to welcome the birds home from their long winter away.
You’re every comfortable long minute, so predictably stable, but somehow you manage to find a way to surprise me every single day in the way that you run by, linger awhile, or turn away so fast I almost forget you were even there.
You are every scattered piece of paper, or pulp, or dust that once made up a living, breathing, tree, you’re under the tip of my pen and you’re in the grains of the chair I’m seated in.
You’re every time I wish on a fleeting moment and somehow get rewarded with something that I may not have asked for but I absolutely needed.
You are every wildflower growing in so many wrong places, in dark places, in desolate, wet, rocky, harsh, abandoned, beautiful places.
You are every single ray the sun shines, every single one of them, shining on faces of strangers, bathing the world in light, thawing a frosted leaf, thawing an icy heart.
You are everyone, and you are no one.
You are everything I feel and everything I believe in.
You are every. 

Hello green #spring #nofilter

Hello green #spring #nofilter

"When you start to really know someone, all their physical characteristics start to disappear. You begin to dwell in their energy, recognize the scent of their skin. You see only the essence of the person, not the shell. That’s why you can’t fall in love with beauty. You can lust after it, be infatuated by it, want to own it. You can love it with your eyes and body but not your heart. And that’s why, when you really connect with a person’s inner self, any physical imperfections disappear, become irrelevant."
Lisa Unger