laurelsherriff
The typhoon was a fiend of chaos. It took order within its hands and crushed it into an unrecognisable entity of uncertainty and despair.
I sentenced myself to remain alone until I was fixed. I could not handle the presence of others in my life. Their closeness hurt me and in my panic to remain emotionally intact I ended up hurting them as well. So I cut myself off from all love, all affection, all the companionship that a human soul requires. I retreated into myself determined to find the broken pieces and glue them back together, to become whole again. For it is only when we are whole and completely ourselves that we can accept the love we deserve and reciprocate that love unto others.
And the feeling was a stirring of the soul. He gasped and clean air rushed into his lungs for what felt like the first time in years. His body began to move, to break and build at the same time, pulling free of a stone like slumber which had consumed him for so long a time. He was free.
Living is not an activity that all humans are able to take part in. Some of us rush into life with open arms and open souls ready to absorb all that we can in the name of living. It is our drug, our reason for being, and we feel the preciousness of this life. And some of us sit quietly on the sidelines, we watch, try to feel from a distance, try to live through a body that is chained into non-existence by our own fear, laziness, apathy. Living is lost on our souls.
Be patient, be still, and the world will come to you, the good will come to you, the day will rush to you. Just breathe and be happy, for you are where you are meant to be.
On the roof. That's where they heard it. The careful pattering of many hooves. An then. The soft thump of something heavy landing on the softest layer of snow. "It's him", they whispered, "it's santa!"
If I was ever higher than I am now, right at this moment,
I swear I would be able to think so much clearer and know so much more,
about everything around me.
She was the object of his affection and as such was treated to an unswerving loyalty and attention that often bordered on obsession. She felt strangled, trapped, but had no way of telling him as her lips were sealed by love.
We cook because we love to eat. We love to be full. Full of food, full of happiness, full of laughter and love. We love this fullness because it makes us feel complete. There is no room for error here.
He did not know himself quite as well as he should have, and so he took the path less travelled, thinking he would find his way. The path was not for him however, and he soon was lost. He turned around only to find the path on which he had been walking had disappeared.
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writing since 2012 · 13 entries · 11 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Laurel showed up.
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the words Laurel reaches for
lovefullpathotherslivingourselveswalkcannothimselflesstravelleddisappearedlostcookeatfood