have heart, be kind.

I’ve noticed that we hold on to parts of our past for mysteriously selfish reasons.
We spend so much time creating this distorted version of reality, removing the painful little pieces that made everything fall apart in the first place.
We replay the fairytale over and over again so many times until we believe the twisted version of the story to be true.  Turns out, we hold onto it for hope, for nostalgia, for comfort, for the fear of never finding it again.  Even though it was the one thing that shattered our heart to begin with.
We have this need to flirt with this self-deprecating indulgence of the past.  It begins to sleep with the present, building tiny barricades around our hearts and head, carefully closing ourselves off to all of the good that wants to get in.  We finally realize the past is just a selfish little bastard fueled by insecurities when we accept that the past doesn’t scare us anymore.  the past is just filled with yearnings of the “what could have been” and the only way to let go of the self-fulfilling black hole of shit is with a burning desire to chase the good around us with brave eyes and a kind heart.


and if I open my heart to you, I’m hoping you’ll show me what to do

I have learned that we have come to expect too much.
We want to change certain people, and I’ve learned that we can.
It will never be as easy as we wanted, and it will never be in the that way we wanted.
I’ve learned that you don’t have to change someone, because they can exceed every possible expectation you have for them.
It’s okay to take things slow.
If it’s worth it, it won’t be easy, and realistically, if it’s worth it, why rush?
I have learned that heart means everything, that heart is everything.
And everything means something to your heart.
It is in fact, impossible to tell your heart how to feel, and when to let go, and whether it needs to feel anything at all.
The heart will always win.
As much as I’ve tried to learn patience, and trust me, I’ve tried, it’s difficult to be patient and trust in your heart.  It’s a struggle, and sometimes, it’s worth the wait.
It’s easy to grow together, and to feel together, and it’s a hell of a lot easier to cry together, but it isn’t easy to outgrow the habits you’ve set in stone for yourself.
I have learned that I’m not always right.  No matter how much I study, nor how I think I feel about something.  I have learned that it’s only possible to outgrow everything you’ve always done when you truly want to.

I know what it’s like to feel like you’re alone, and I’ve learned that no matter just how lonely you feel, you are never truly alone.  They will always find you.  I will always find you.

Our brains have never functioned the same way, and maybe they never really need to.  Because communication and understanding will fill in the gaps.
And trust and stability will build security and confidence.
I will learn how to meet you half way, and I will know what it feels like to be strong together.  Being vulnerable alone is so very important, but being vulnerable together is essential to our being.
Love never dies.  It may fade, it may not be as prominent as it once was, but it never dies.
You’ll always feel something for your first love, and that’s okay.
It’s important to remember: they taught you how to love, not how to stop loving.

if we go down, then we go down together

“they fully embraced vulnerability.  They believe that what made them vulnerable made them beautiful.  They didn’t talk about vulnerability being comfortable, nor did they really talk about it being excruciating.  They just talked about it being necessary.   They talked about the willingness to say ‘I love you’ first.  The willingness to do something when there are no guarantees.  The willingness to invest into a relationship that may or may not work out.  They thought this was fundamental.”
– Brené Brown, The Power of Vulnerability

She’s not wrong.  Vulnerability is important.  It is necessary.  Because even when I know I’m going to fail, I still have to try.  Ripping your heart out and letting the contents of your chest spill to your feet, and then having to lie alone in that mess.
Naked to the bone, being as vulnerable as can be.
Because you have to.
Because you need your own vulnerability more than anyone else’s.
To know who you are and where you’re going, and finding out what you need to give up so you’re no longer a prisoner to the pieces of you that weigh you down and keep you from moving on.  Because you will make yourself sick if you don’t, even though you’re ill when you do.  Because sometimes, we forget.  We forget how much the world can hurt.  It hurts the people we love, and the people we don’t, and the people just caught in the middle, even the people who would give anything to just never, ever, ever, never get hurt again.
Because the hurt can’t be avoided.
It’s just coming at us, and it can’t stop.  It’s in us and can’t be seen.  It lies next to us in the dark waiting.  And sometimes, it just doesn’t come at all.  Sometimes it’s a different feeling.
A “thing” if you will.
Something that flutters down from nowhere and stays just long enough to give us hope.
And sometimes, barely, and rarely, we get a break.
Just when we need it most.
When we least expect it.
When we’re most vulnerable.

Without vulnerability you will never be able to see your secret heart, or your hidden self.  With vulnerability you will finally see that you are human.

Never be afraid, and even if you are, do not regret it. Do not be embarrassed by it.
It’s okay that you have a million contradicting feelings at once, and it’s okay to be afraid of losing your thoughts before you can give them to someone.
It’s okay to be afraid that you’ll get lost in that someone.
Maybe you’re afraid that your heart and faults and flaws are on your sleeve and theirs aren’t.  Maybe you’re afraid that you want to be a better person, and they don’t.  And maybe you are always honest with yourself, but they aren’t.
It’s okay, because nothing that is worth it has ever come easy.

everything will be alright, as long as we don’t forget.