writing-about-life

[writing-about-life]

Ty Bee and Zuzu! I love seeing everyone pop up on my dash, your posts light up my day!

@bumblebeehug @zuzu-fairys-tail @astral-fairyy @nalunatic @nalufever @spot-of-tea @gymjunkie412 @shiiro-arts @tokkias @celestialulu

positivity train!

if you see this or are tagged in it, tag a couple of your favorite mutuals/blogs and let them know you appreciate seeing them on your dash!

@h0neysugarfree @blueberrylovv @bequiteanddriveeeeeee @cherri-bomb-bomb @eg0mechan1c @fatrexicisback

[writing-about-life]

Stars

Sometimes it feels like you’re flying in the sky chasing after stars. In the morning its cold and your out of breath. At night you see them but they are blinding and burning and so far out of your reach. You look around you and you feel alone, the others seem so far away chasing after their own stars. The ground is hundreds of feet away, shrouded in clouds and you wonder if its all worth it. And even if it isnt, is there anything else?You make a wrong move, catch the wrong wind and suddenly your plummeting straight to the ground and you wonder if you even want to catch yourself. The ground is getting closer, the path that you started on before you went to the skies is still there and then you see someone. Someone on their own way. They’re looking at the stars that you have been reaching for your entire life like they already have it. You wonder how they can do that. What are they chasing that makes the stars you wished to hold so badly,small in their veiw.Suddenly you want to catch yourself, not to try chasing your star once more,but to stare at the sky full of them. You wonder that maybe there is more on the ground, on the path, then in the lonely skies.

-E

[writing-about-life]

Doomed by the narrative

Art reflects reality, but a painting is not something that you can take where you take your soul. Even the greatest sculptures, don’t capture the history, the change, and growth of the people who created them. Even if their names are unknown, the poet outlives the poem by the virtue of creation. while the poem lives and dies everyday, the poets soul keeps blindly burning.

A human life is deeper than art can depict, more colorful than we can see. It’s human to craft and change the world around us to reflect what we see, but we are more than just what we craft. We hold more than a picture, a moment, could capture . We are forever changing, forever lingering.

There is more to this life than the stories in the books. The soul is deeper than the ink filled ridges on a page. Within the depths of out minds there is no narrative, no scrambled plot-lines just us.

Everything we create is founded on what we are, but our lives, perspectives, and memories, are vaster and quicker then we can weave with our bare hands.

You are more them the leading lady or dashing prince charming. You are real. Not a moral to be taught or a metaphor for someone new, real. There is no climax or resolution waiting at the bottom of the steep hill for you, just a different road. Unlike hero’s of ancient days, your story is not sung in dactyl or Anapest meter. You are not a character of a great tragedy or timeless comedy. Be grateful of what you see reflected back in the mirror but know that it is not the truth. Comfort is found in alikeness, lessons are learned through similarity, but you are not part of a story. You are not doomed by the narrative.

-E