Uncertain

Is there anything

that is inherently

beautiful

all by itself?

Or do all the

beautiful

things

wrap themselves

in

thorns

to guard

from being crushed

by overzealous ardor?

Photo by *andokadesbois on We Heart It

Your Darkest Night

It was black and endless and lined with teeth all over.
Descending like a wet blanket,
every breath you drew was a shudder.

*On a separate note, I’d like to reiterate just how much I dislike textual misunderstandings. Yesterday was the first time I got true hate comments on my blog. What I thought was carefree banter somehow caused the other person to devolve into calling me something vulgar and tell me to burn in hell. The fact that I don’t entertain phone calls from married men may have factored into this whole debacle. Why are we always so apt to screw things up so royally? It’s one thing we can always depend on to do spectacularly.

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The Nature of Pain

I think one of the hardest things is to climb inside of your own pain and be okay. To accept it finally so that it no longer has so much power over you. It almost feels like climbing into bed with the enemy. You want to remain mad at society, at your culture, at your parents, your pastor, at God. We’d rather lash out and seek vengeance on what hurt us. But the only way to be free is to climb inside your own pain and forgive them all.