Blessed are the stupid. The utterly mediocre and blissfully shallow, whose days revolve around petty pop culture issues and which girl in the club they’ll fuck tonight.
Cursed are us the outcasts. The open minds and souls whose empathy runs deeper than a well. We see the polluted smoke of poverty, the aching futility of hope. Those who see past the social games, booze, and small talk. Who feel the loneliness of a thousand universes darkening inside of us.
We remember and feel each heart ache, each pain, each bad memory, and each disappointing thought. Our existence passes by so slowly. How sad it is to live in a world consumed by our own sadness.
Cursed are us, the solitary, the invisible, the unloved, whose eyes are open to see life for how it really is. We, us, who feel everything, though we are nothing at the same time.
As I have grown up (and believe me I have grown up quite a lot the last 5 years), I learnt that even the one person that wasn’t suppose to ever let you down, probably will. It is not that person’s fault. Blame it on your expectations and selfishness.
It’s easy to feel uncared for when people aren’t able to communicate and connect with you in the way you need. And it’s so hard not to internalize that silence as a reflection on your worth. But the truth is that the way other people operate is not about you. Most people are so caught up in their own responsibilities, struggles, and anxiety that the thought of asking someone else how they’re doing doesn’t even cross their mind. They aren’t inherently bad or uncaring — they’re just busy and self-focused. And that’s okay. It’s not evidence of some fundamental failing on your part. It doesn’t make you unloveable or invisible. It just means that those people aren’t very good at looking beyond their own world. But the fact that you are — that despite the darkness you feel, you have the ability to share your love and light with others — is a strength. Your work isn’t to change who you are; it’s to find people who are able to give you the connection you need. Because despite what you feel, you are not too much. You are not too sensitive or too needy. You are thoughtful and empathetic. You are compassionate and kind. And with or without anyone’s acknowledgment or affection, you are enough
I think you need to fall in love with the wrong person. I think you need to fight and cry and sweat and bleed and fail. I think you need to have bad relationships and bad breakups. I think you need all of that so that when the right person and the right relationship comes along you can sigh with relief and say, “Ah yes. That is how it’s supposed to feel.”
“I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.
And I will not be afraid
of your scars.
I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.”
Clementine von Radics, Mouthful of Forevers
original post found here