I write every day
hoping that there is a chance
you will read them too.

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson

Why do I still hold onto that hope?

I guess I just don't ever want anyone to be able to say that I was a quitter. That I gave up to easily and didn't fight hard enough. I will always fight for those I love. Always.

Still here,
L.A.

Ladies,

Enough with the body shaming. With the fat talk. With the idea that as soon as you achieve the "thigh-gap" everything will be great. With the idea that a middle that isn't flat and hard isn't worth having arms wrapped around it. Because, I'm going to level with you, all of that is nothing more than a giant pile of bull shit.

Be healthy. Yes. Do that. Please. But don't do it to finally fit into that jean size. Who gives a flying fuck what number is on the small flap of fabric inside that pair of skinny jeans that makes you feel like a million bucks?

Go ahead. Run a mile every day, or just take the stairs today, not because you want that number on the scale to be a little bit less, but because your body is your home for as long as you're on this earth and you might as well take care of it.

How many miles have your capable legs taken you in your lifetime? How many dances have your feet allowed you to enjoy? How many loved ones have your arms embraced? Thank them.

Strengthen them to take you further. To dance for just one more song. To hold on a little longer. To squeeze a little tighter. Feed it with the kind of food that'll keep you going that extra mile. I'll be damned if that doesn't include apple pie and ice-cream in the fall.

Because isn't that how it should be? You shouldn't hate this beautiful and marvelous vehicle which has taken you this far. On your first bike ride. To your first of many dances. Across the stage at graduation. To that city where you really started to understand yourself.

You should celebrate it. Thank it. Care for it. Recognize it as the God given gift that it is. No matter how different it is from the girl's sitting next to you in class or the woman's you pass in the grocery store. Realize that every little freckle or scar, every feature you have, is just part of an illustration that helps tell the story of your life.

And just as reading a book with the same illustration on every page would be boring, so would being a part of a world where everyone fits the same mold. Your story is beautiful, special, and unique. Your body is too.

Embrace it. Try to be grateful for it. & Please take the time to learn to love it.

Dreaming...

They'll smile at me with one of those how-in-the-hell-did-I-ever-get-so-lucky kind of smiles and say without any sense of irony, "You're the kind of beautiful I want to wake up to every morning." Of course I won't be able to help but laugh because who in the hell thought that after all those nights alone they would find me? And all I'll be able to say to one of the greatest things anyone's ever said to me will be, "Ditto."

One word.

That'll be enough.

"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away."

— George Eliot  

Reason 530 why my family should have its own reality TV show:

Tonight my little brother asked me, "Would it be weird if I iced my butt cheeks?"

Yep. That just happened.

Whatever will be will be

I'm not going to chase you.

I'm not going to ask you to chase me.

I'm more than content to just sit here with you

and enjoy whatever time we have together.

Can’t you understand,
I don’t want another hand?
Can’t you see it’s you?

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson

- L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

via

My thoughts as he stops by to talk to me:

You still mean a lot to me.

There's really nothing I can do about it at this point.

You make me happy. I feel more myself when I'm with you.

If somebody thinks there's something wrong with that,

well pardon my French, but fuck 'em.

What I really meant:

"And when I asked you how you’d been I meant I missed you more than I’ve ever missed anything before."
- Iain Thomas

Rediscovering my voice

In a world that tries to strip you of your essence and tells you what you should be, it seems that I lost my voice for a little while. I wrote very little, got sucked down the vortex of melancholy, and passively let life pass me by for months.

Over the last month though, my voice has started to come back to me. Still little more than a whisper, it longs to be free again. And it will be. The inspirational breeze of a life lived with purpose has returned to push me forward.

I couldn't be more grateful.

Hello there again, World.

I'm back.

Always,
L.A.

"Whoever it is you fall in love with for the first time, not just love but be in love with, is the one who will always make you angry, the one you can’t be logical about."

- Jeanette Winterson, The Passion 

To the man who'll ask me to wear a white dress,

 

Lean in to kiss me

and I’ll meet you halfway there,

reach and you’ll be held.

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson

Image via

Not enough

I thought maybe you could mean something to me. That your kind attentiveness would be enough to me. There was always that whisper in the back of my head that always insisted, "You're worth more. This is not enough."

When people asked about you I would shrug my shoulders. Tell them I wasn't sure exactly what we were or what I wanted us to be. Looking back I see that the uncertainty that made a nest for itself in my stomach whenever you came up in conversation should have been a dead giveaway.

I should have known.

I should have know that although the daily text messages were flattering, the fact that you never worked up the nerve to call me meant you didn't understand me. When you said you only looked out for yourself I should have known that you were incompatible with my need to love everyone I came into contact with.

But I am a stubborn woman, so it took me a little longer to see, that a foolish boy in a man's body, no matter how attractive, kind, or attentive he may be, would never be enough for me.

Rumors

Rumor has it I'll be seeing you this fall.

           Rumor has it we'll be living in the same town again.

This in and of its self does not worry me. The thought of your proximity is no longer is something that causes me to lose sleep at night. What keeps me awake is the thought of seeing you for the first time in almost two years.

The thought of you seeing me.

Will you see me at all? Will I, in a moment of panic, run the other way if by chance I see you first? Will my walls stay up, or will you manage to tear my defenses down as only you can?

Only time will tell, but I have a frequent daydream of how our reunion will play out.

In it you see me, but you don't really see me. You are oblivious to the light dusting of freckles that dust the bridge of my nose, those kisses of summer that I love so much and remind me of days that used to be spent in denim overalls. Our eyes connect and I'm taken back to a time when your goofy smile was one of my favorite guilty pleasures, but you fail to recognize that my eyes are filled with melancholy for your sake. You look at me and are blind to how much our friendship once meant to me. An indifferent nod from you brings the daydream to an end with you walking past, completely unaware of the war you just awakened within me.

I knew that with the passing of time things would change between us, but I never thought it would be like this.

image via

Thank you, F. Scott Fitzgerald, for understanding my heart.

Her heart sank into her shoes as she realized at last how much she wanted him. No matter what his past was, no matter what he had done. Which was not to say that she would ever let him know, but only that he moved her chemically more than anyone she had ever met, that all other men seemed pale beside him.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, A New Leaf

Rain, rain, go away...

Here we are talking about the weather again.

"Was it raining up there this morning too?"
"Yes. For a little bit."

The conversation is so mundane it makes me want to scream and pull out my hair. I don't want this. I want to talk about big things. Things that matter to me or to you. I want to tell you I'm sick of small talk. I know you don't care how work is going for me just as much as I don't care how the work day is treating you. I want to know what makes you tick.

What never fails to bring tears to your eyes?
          What is something you wish you could just forget?
                    What makes you smile from the top of your head to your toes?

I won't ask you those questions though. I'll just keep the small talk rolling enough to remind me there is another person on the other end of the phone. At least for today.

You never know what tomorrow will bring.

If you cannot lose something you never had,
       please explain to me why this hurts so bad...

 “And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.”
- Khaled Hossein