I once woke up at four am,
grabbed a piece of paper,
and an old pen,
and wrote,
“from what I have learned from love,
and life, and the hardships we face,
I think we breathe through photosynthesis”
and I woke up the next morning,
and I am still trying to figure out what I meant.

I met a girl my freshman year,
and the first thing she said to me was,
“I think you would still love me regardless,
but I think I am bisexual”
and in history class one day,
my closest guy friend passed me a note,
“I don’t know what to do. I messed up. I need help”
and he told me the biggest secret of his life,
he said he felt that I could be trusted.

I once knew someone who every single night,
before they went to bed,
they would call every friend they had just to tell them goodnight.
She was afraid that she wouldn’t wake up the next day, and they wouldn’t know where they stood with her.
So, I took up telling everyone I loved them, anytime I met them,
because, I, too, don’t want to wake up one day and have people questioning whether they were loved or not.

and I can’t stop thinking about those words I wrote at four in the morning,
if I keep telling people that I love them,
if I keep telling them it will be okay,
can I keep them breathing?
can I keep their heart beating?

They told you at a very young age,
that being an artist wasn’t a real talent,
that singing would get you nowhere,
that writing for a living would make you a fool.
so you suppressed your talent,
and you stuffed your passion in the back of your closet.

ten years later, fresh outta highschool,
you are cleaning out your closet,
to see what would go in your new college dorm room.
There,
you find,
all that you left,
all of your passion,
and for the first time in ten years,
you come alive.

Take it out,
dust it off,
sing until your lungs cannot take it anymore,
draw until you break your pencil,
paint until all of your paint has gone dry,
and write until all of those pent up words have flown out of your fingertips,
please take these talents with you,
take them to your grave.

Your passion is what makes you come alive,
and don’t you dare let anyone tell you that your passion won’t earn you a living,
because it is what will make the living worth it,
it is what will make everything worth it.
Love will inspire you to continue to create,
pain and heartache, will cause you to use your talent in a way
that will heal,
and put you back together again.
Lose yourself here,
in the paint,
in the watercolor,
in the clay,
in the sing song melody that flows from your lips,
and in the words coming from your pen,
lose yourself here,
and you will find yourself
here.

Don’t put the passion back in the closet,
don’t put it back under your bed,
don’t hide it away in the attic.
take it with you,
even when they tell you,
“You are going nowhere with that”
because you will go everywhere with it,
if only you take it with you.

mythosaur:

i am dying

For the Doubters - Michael Gungor ›

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aseaofquotes:

Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

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reasonsmysoniscrying:

He met Bill Murray.

Submitted by: Laura R.
Location: St. Andrew’s, Scotland

 

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femmeempathmagus:

deafmuslimpunx:

exquisitedialectics:

takealookatyourlife:

Aiya Van Kooten everyone

When Aiya Van Kooten stood face-to-face with a burglar in her bedroom, her left eye twitched, then she went into “predator mode”.

“I screamed at him… jumped off my chair, leaped over my bed and sprinted after him down the stairs,” she said.

http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/crime/8626910/Predator-mode-scares-off-burglars

This is the best story of my life

“Although she was the only one home, Van Kooten said she had no regard for her safety - instead, she said she was just overwhelmed with “rage“….. ummmmm Hero!!! 

Haha, badass Muslim woman. Love it!!!

Real living Superheroine.

(via loveyourchaos)

Open your mouth only if what you are going to say is more beautiful than silence.

I am somehow less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.