Posts Tagged ‘Creativity’

A Moment.


Dear Anyone,
If you’re reading this, I hope you are as in awe of this secret spot as I am. How amazing to reach out and share stories with people you will most likely never meet. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I don’t know your dreams, your story, your struggles, your past.
All I know is this moment.
Life is good. Even when it breaks you apart. Allow yourself to become stronger, rebuild. Fight for the relationships that matter. Even when those people hurt you, give them a second chance. Life’s too short to hold a grudge. It’s also too short to waste your time on people who don’t value who you are — who you really are. You’re beautiful. You matter. Never stop believing that. You have to be okay with yourself. No one can make you feel insignificant unless you let them.
Take risks, friend. Travel. Love. Breathe. Jump. Find what you desire and go after it. Don’t let anyone stand in your way. Be your biggest fan. Love life and all it has to offer. I promise if you do it will love you back.
Tell your story. Someone may need to hear it. God didn’t make us to be alone, so surround yourself with people and places that make you feel alive. Forgive. Forget. Feel. And never apologize for how you feel. Every emotion means something. So it let it teach you.
May your present be beautiful — as you are. May your future give hope.
Sincerely, Kari


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Every day we wake up and wish for something more. We wake up wishing for something extraordinary, something normal, something meaningful to happen to us. All the while we’re simply trying to make sense of what life is and who we are. But it’s impossible to do. Life is like a thunderstorm that’s rainy and sunny all at once. It will never make sense. But we’re so caught up in the facade of what we should understand or who we should be that we miss what we already are — human.

We make mistakes, and we hurt people. We ignore text messages and phone calls and cancel plans, all because we’re too busy caught up in our own bullshit. We destroy relationships and get in fights over things that don’t really matter. We let the things that do really matter tear us apart, until we’re alone trying to figure out how we got there. We’re petty and selfish and mean. We expect people to treat us with respect when we’re not willing to treat them the same. We sacrifice what we believe for what we want. We give up what we want to find out who we are. We compromise who we are for people who never cared. We all believe we are the victims, but we also want to be the heroes. That is how we become fighters — ignorant and brave all at once.

And, we are lovers — full of passion and naivety. We are all searching for life to be more than ourselves. We want to know we’re not alone in this. That someone believes in us, and we believe in them. We hold onto relationships that will break our hearts, if only to risk feeling something genuine. To find a connection that rocks us to our core, shatters what we thought we knew and changes our futures. We love without expecting anything in return, because it gives us something to hope for. Someday, someone may do the same for us. We hold onto people with our hearts, wrapping around them with all that we are.

We thrive on conversation — the sharing of intellect, the debating of viewpoints, the revealing of our most treasured memories and darkest secrets. We construct words the way we construct our lives, with plenty of care and recklessness. Sometimes we think before, and other times we just do. Either way, we sit up all hours of the night thinking of what’s been said and thought, because maybe we missed something. Or, maybe, we wish to relive it all again. The exchange of a moment when we felt alive.

We’re searching to find something — a career, a place, a home, an adventure, a change — that makes us feel as if we have arrived. This is what we were made for. This is the moment when life really begins. Because, if we’re honest, we are all still waiting for more. We want to do more than live life; we want to be filled with it. To be someone — a traveler, a parent, a lover, an inventor, a dreamer, a doer, a person who makes a difference. We want to be more than we are, in hopes that the world will notice us.

We want to share life with others. We let people in to see all the mistakes we’ve made, invite them to watch us make more, and love us because of it. We let people in to help us find ourselves. We fight for and destroy the relationships we have, while we look for more. We make our life puzzle more intricate, yet we also make it more significant. To explain the parts of us we don’t understand, to add perspective, to share in a life we are all trying to create something from.

Life is like a thunderstorm that’s rainy and sunny all at once. It doesn’t make sense. And that’s what makes it beautiful.

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Let me be naked next to you.

The heart speaks volumes next to someone it trusts. Conversation explodes as honesty shows. All you always wanted but never knew how to obtain. The vulnerability and security of letting someone in. The comfort of knowing you’re not alone. That you will never be alone again. Two hearts beat as one. The way it was created to be. The way you’ve always meant to me. A piece to my puzzle I never knew was missing. I say things I’ve never said and become someone I never was. Come next to me and give me your heart as I’ve tried to give you mine. All that’s lost I promise you’ll find. Forever is how long I’ll fight for you.

Let me be naked next to you.

All the secrets you’ve never wanted to expose. The dark places that you make you unworthy of love. The testaments of nights gone wrong. A person you never were or want to be again. Go back to all the places you’ve escaped from. Revisit the aftermath of brokenness, horror, and misunderstanding. Those are the places you’ve come to fear the most. The same places I’m dying to visit. If only to bring a light you never knew was there. A tunnel toward the reason why. Things only break to be mended and made better again. I will sew you back together. Make you new. We will be each others exception.

Let me be naked next to you.

Flaws are the things we see wrong with ourselves. The same things that are beautiful to someone else. The way you’re beautiful to me. I see ribs gently rising under exposed skin as you flex. I touch your arms as your muscles tighten. I trace the lines on your back slowly with my finger, gradually making my way to where it ends. That’s where it begins. All I ever wanted to be, with you. Two bodies moving in rhythm. The same way your lips speak with your tongue. How your eyes flicker open in intense moments. How you grasp tighter and I know exactly what you want. Together is where we’re meant to be.

Let me be naked next to you.

The promise of not always getting what you want. Fighting for something when we feel like there is nothing left. Trample on my heart as I tell you lies. Pull on me as I push back. Yell for no reason as I walk away for the same. The beauty is what we know remains. A genuine connection to love and to love again. What we knew we always wanted but were to afraid to have. This is what it means to be alive. Taking the good with the bad and the ugly. Never knowing what comes next but always know you have each other. We’d give each other a million second chances, because that’s what you do when you love someone.

Let me be naked next to you.

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A memory.

The sultry summer air is dancing on tip toe, caressing the space between our fingers. Yours grasp tighter, and I tingle. The sun has long fallen behind faded violet clouds. It is only us. Finally, us. The trees and the hilltops watch from afar. The dirt gives way to tired hiking shoes. Hidden creatures listen to cautious chatter. It’s the start of something unknown again. The way it always is when something begins. The uncertainty of what comes next. I wonder how you kiss. Or, how your hands will feel underneath my shirt, on my bare body, on places you only dream of. I wonder how you taste. I trace the outline of your lips in my head, imagine mine closing in and the way they’ll travel down your skin. I wonder if we’ll ever love, or if you’re capable of it. I know nothing about you. What should scare me turns me on. I get lost in the possibility of you, and hope for what I may never know.

A memory.

It’s Christmas time. I’m sitting in a pile of handwritten letters. All addressed to you. To the boy who stole my heart, changed my world, strengthened my faith. The long nights spent cuddling on your parents couch. The embarrassing display of tears and explicit stories told. You were the one person who saw me through every storm, even when I felt like I’d never find land again. It’s all there. In the torn pages from my journal. The typed on white computer paper. The small shreds of bible verses turned into poems. I gave you my heart in a manilla envelope, sentences and sentiments I will never get back. The same as you. Gone forever. A package never to be returned. Still, I thank you. You made me believe in unspeakable friendship. Proved it’s possible to live through devastating loss.

A memory.

One o’clock in the morning. We’re lying in the middle of a quiet highway, twisted between countryside and mountain air. The first time I’ve seen you in years. Now we’re beneath the stars. You ask me what I would do if things were different. I think about your girlfriend. The one I didn’t know you had. I don’t answer. You know that I would kiss you. I don’t, because I know you’d kiss me back. We just lay there. The music we’ve shared over the past six months plays softly on portable speakers, mixes with the gentle hum of crickets and fireflies. We talk about everything, as if the last five years never separated us. I fall in love with the promise of shared emotions, hope, and passion. This is not my fairytale. But it’s out there, hidden in genuine conversations and familiar songs. You never called me yours, but you gave me truth. The possibility to be wanted for who you are inside.

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Let me have a touch of you.

It’s in the whisper of muted tones from worn out computer speakers. The soft hush and hum of fan and melody. It’s the subtle way of bringing me back to when. The music we made in the bed I now lie in

alone is where you always found me. Your calloused hands sliding gently across my satin skin. You say you like my legs soft. Like that. Breath comes scattered as we breathe in what comes next. The rush. Fingers grab hold of waists and hair, remove clothes you said I looked pretty in. You like me better naked, though. Like this. The freedom to touch what you wish. Where and

whenever you let me back in. An invitation to be simply us. Only us. The correlation of flesh on flesh. I feel your back muscles flex. The best. We may not be corresponding puzzle pieces but I like the way we fit. Like that. The high. My stomach quivers as you touch mine. All you’ve felt before and will again. Next time. Wanting is what keeps me awake

nights I dream about you. The push and pull of my body saying yes as my heart says no. Not again. The many times play over in my mind. Hand next to hand, next to skin. Your arms wrapped round my chest. Touch that. I was made for wanting you this way. The curve of yours made for what’s inside. Only mine. The fantasy of what may never be repeated. But if you ever begin

to touch me again. Like that. I will melt beneath your advance as I did then. The inability to keep my lips off yours. Kiss after kiss. I like it better when you do it like this. Have what you want when you will. It’s merely a game of give and take. Take it. My willingness to give in to you. The way our bodies like to play. The heat. We will find each other beneath my sheets. So

let me have a touch of you.

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If You Just Asked.

What would you do for me, you ask.
Anything, I say.

Translucent clouds dance on blue skies.
The way your memory skips across my mind.
I can’t escape the thought of wanting you.
Perhaps I should try running.
I’m still standing in the promise of never.
The assurance of something forever lost.

What would you do to be mine, you ask.
Whatever you need, I say.

The air has gone from hot to cold abruptly.
The same way it ended between us.
I try to uncover missed signs sometimes.
If only I had said more, done more.
I am left only with regret now.
I believed too much in your facade.

What would you give me, you ask.
My whole heart, I say.

The left side of the bed remains vacant.
The reminder that you’re gone.
I close my eyes to dream of other things.
But you’re all I ever see.
I lie awake with the past.
The haunting beauty of what once was.

What would you do for me, you ask.
Everything, I say.

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Hold Still.

Hold still. Close your eyes and pretend it is the way it was then. Two bodies pressed together on my bed. Hear the sound of lips and hands, moving to taste more, touch more.

Hold still. Tell me the lies again, the lines about how it was going to be. The way you made me believe in you. Lie next to me and lie to me. I’ll absorb it the same way I did your kiss. The only thing I still miss.

Hold still. A song is playing on the stereo, the way it did some time ago. Whisper the lyrics as I pretend we will forever be. Just like a country song yet to be written. Instead you have inspired this.

Hold still. The truth is something I have yet to spill, words you may not want to hear. Words like I miss you. Words like you’re not good enough for me. But sometimes I think I’d rather be wanted than alone.

Hold still. This will only last another sentence or two. For this is the sound of me moving on. And now there is no more need to pretend.

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