inspiration

“I hope she’ll be a fool — that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.”

“i am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason. i am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. anything i can not transform into something marvelous, i let go. reality doesn’t impress me. i only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, i escape, one way or another. no more walls.”

im waiting for you. every moment of every day i am waiting. from the warm summer nights to the cold brisk mornings, i am waiting.
patience will never be my virtue, but i feel as though when we finally meet the conclusion of the trite phrase about a characteristic that is essential to longterm happiness will be clear and i will finally be able to posses and understand.
until then.

from the working; from the tired, the rundown, the hopeless and lost. from those who struggle every day, or just most of the days. to those who went with their heart, unsure and alone, to create a new path, and with that, a new ambition, a new drive and a new life. to the ones who were ignored, the ones who were a disappointment, the ones who were made feel as if they were insignificant, unintelligent, lazy, only others down similar paths or those around you may truly know how wrong these adjectives are to describe individuals as yourself.
you are amazing. in every essence, every word, and every meaning that amazing could bring. the long hours spent without recognition, the smile you hold even when others dismiss your drive, the stress and degrading comments you take daily and yet continue to tread on. tread on. because it’s the treading, and the determination, and that drive and ambition created by traveling alone, down the dirt and the insecurities that pave over such inconsistencies and help create your own path.

Something simple. Something easily noticed and yet taken for granted. If you had a dime for every time someone said something that reminded you, of me, or the me you will soon meet you could well be a millionaire. Money would flow from your pockets, fall behind you-but if you collect such fortune, I wish that you change it for pennies, leaving them behind you as heads-up good luck for those that stumble behind you, those that need a smile, a good day to spring from, a shoulder to cry on or a word of inspiration, a breath of hope, I wish if you were to leave anything behind of me, resembling of me or reminding one of me, that it be truly that. Positive.

Time was a simple thing, which motivated some, crushed others, and promised only in imaginations to heal. It was a fragile thing, if at that, because at any moment, within any second, minute or hour, something, anything, could happen. That was all anyone ever needed to know, and that simple fact was enough for many to keep their ears and eyes alert, and hearts weary even of the most inspirational, breathtaking people, because usually they were the ones that turned and twisted fate, threatening time itself, staring It straight in the eyes and causing the world to freeze, even for a small moment. And with that small moment, change the course of many peoples lives.

it doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. i want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
it doesn’t interest me how old you are. i want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
it doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. i want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! i want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.
i want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
it doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. i want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy.
i want to know if you can see beauty even when it’s not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence.
i want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “yes!”
it doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. i want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
it doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. i want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
it doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. i want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
i want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

she was not good on the phone. she needed the face, the pattern of eyes, nose, trembling mouth… people talking were meant to look at a face, the disastrous cupcake of it, the hide-and-seek of the heart dashing across. with a phone, you said words, but you never watched them go in. you saw them off at the airport but never knew whether there was anyone there to greet them when they got off the plane.

i like to see people reunited, i like to see people run to each other, i like the kissing and the crying, i like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can’t tell fast enough, the ears that aren’t big enough, the eyes that can’t take in all of the change, i like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.