Judas betrayed Jesus.
Jesus knew Judas would betray him.
Yet Jesus accepted Judas regardless.
Don’t let a person’s betrayal or rejection keep you from loving that person well.
Just as Jesus’ love was unconditional, we too must strive for our love to have no bounds.
It’s far better to be known for a gentle, unrelenting love rather versus a cautious, self-preserving spirit.
Teach me to let things die gracefully.
Help me to find beauty in their memories.
You are worth more than cancelled plans, insincere invites and bad friends.
It’s okay to have standards for the way people treat you — just because someone says they love and appreciate you, it doesn’t mean they actually show it in their actions.
It’s okay to have self-respect.
It’s okay to not settle for less.
It’s okay to end things that continually affect you negatively, even if you’ve invested in them emotionally.
Remember that you are not a doormat.
Remember that you are lovable.
Remember that people think highly of you.
Think of all of the people who genuinely love you.
Think of the good things you do for people — how you support and encourage others.
Think of ways you can continue to become a better person.
Know you are a person worthy of being loved well.
You deserve new shoes, a fancy pen, and phenomenal love.
Don’t sell yourself short.
I have tried.
I have tried with everything I’ve got to keep you hanging by your decaying stem on my branches that are slowly becoming bare. But you keep swaying. And it gets tiring extending energy to things that don’t want to stay – well, aren’t meant to stay.
And I’m sorry.
I’m sorry my branches aren’t always stable and that sometimes being attached to them feels more like rollercoaster ride than it should. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough. And I’m sorry that, once my presence was no longer a convenience but a hindrance, you decided you no longer needed my help or company.
But we will both grow.
Because, in all cycles, loss is necessary.
Because your fallen frame will eventually decompose and new life stem from your skeleton veins.
And because, although trees lose their leaves every winter, they will always reacquire more come spring.
because you are a fading stranger, a breathing ghost, replacing me with whims known only for a couple months — but while you’re bagging leftover foliage from the previous season, clearing your land of the past to make room for the new, I’m crafting crowns from the last few fallen leaves, remembering and cherishing, but moving on with handfuls of spindly twigs and moleskine notebooks filled with hindsight (we may be going our separate ways, but my guess is that we’ll do just fine).
“I use babe casually, and not a lot. But I understand some women don’t like it. But some girls like that ‘I’m his *swoon*’ thing, so. Is it okay to use sparingly and with discretion?”
…He’s probably a little over-analytical at times, but I love it.
And he told me that seagulls thrive in the summer months but wither away in the winter ones — and that maybe that’s why I find myself over-analyzing and nit-picking on black nights with cracked-open windows letting cold breezes prickle my skin — because I am a babybird who usually ends up flying away from any type of cold weather (or conflict) I’m faced with.
I told him I didn’t think the seagulls are the only ones — but he was too busy soaking up my melodrama as sadness for the night to notice his own decay.
friday.
north ocean rain storms.
atlantic storms of thoughts.
floods of unvoiced emotions.
daisies.
— because you told me I was like a baby bird and that maybe I should wait out this winter with closed windows and dried flowers (and hot chocolate).
7:37 AM:
I am sitting in a nickel grey car surrounded by old daisies floating in a sea of black fabric. It is early in the morning. Blankets of fog are outlining sleepy trees. Mist-damped wisps of hair are clinging to my face. I am craving iced coffee and genuine attention.
I never been more sure about being unsure. And I think that’s okay. I will let my anxieties dissipate into the thick clouds of tiny water droplets coating the sunless sky, suspending them in the atmosphere and obscuring their visibility until it’s completely restricted — making way for a new day as my worries scatter across the earth’s surface and out of the grasp of my own two hands.
Because sometimes you feel like a tree, watching what you’ve invested in and, up until this very moment, clung tightly to and nurtured, slowly slide between your outstretched fingers as natural progression and environmental forces take their courses. Yet, despite all odds, you find yourself rooted in strength, determination and optimism — expectantly awaiting the next season of growth so life can sprout from your branches yet again.
surprised to be loved. 