Dive Deep into Creativity: Discover, Share, Inspire
Emotion - Blog Posts
She cries a million tears every year,
She rips up the earth,
She sends voltage through our grounds to help us recharge ,
She shines the brightest light in the sky,
She can whisper ,
She can roar ,
She heals,
She grows,
She loves ,
Who is she ?
And how come we don’t answer her calls.
@trueemotions91
Sympathy, Tenderness, strangers to my life
My Dearest L...
Am I ever going to truly find my way in this world? or am I just another robot going with the flow of life, when am I actually going to start living? will my life ever truly get better? I'm going to share a dream of mine with you. I dream of the day that I'll live in a mini hut in the forest away from all people and the city, I just want to live off-grid with nothing but you and my little hut and are cute little morning fires to warm are tea and are coffee and the river to wash our clothes than to sit together and watch the sunset together.
The depth of emotion fantasy can invoke is sometimes overwhelming, especially when coupled with a good soundtrack. Love and hate and fear and peace, longing and comfort, shame and pride, pain and satisfaction, to know it so profoundly through the eyes of words or colors weaved into lies is to know humanity. You’re in physical pain, aching for a world that doesn’t exist, a home you’ve never seen, and a life you’ve never lived. You tremble when something goes horribly wrong, and gasp when something goes amazingly right. You squeal when a relationship works because you know and love them and you know they’ll make each other happy.
They’re not real. They can never exist. But to watch a situation fall apart makes you sob until your core feels empty and you want to curl up and pray that things will be alright. And then to finally feel that victory makes you cry in joy and relief, makes you fall over and laugh as you hug the book close to your chest or clutch the edge of the computer as you lay there for a while to just exist and know what it is to live.
And months later, when you pick it up once more, you can fall in love all over again.
How cool is that?
Out of curiosity...
Firstly, one of my coworkers and I were discussing the true difference between being mad or angry, we concluded that when a person is truly angered in the moment that they are on a whole other level. If i lost ya, SORRY I am trying to get my thought in to words but I am kinda struggling. Any who, I felt like I needed to shared this before getting onto my question as I am talking about being at this level of angry, if you have never experienced this, then play it as more of a hypothetical. Thx for participating!!!
This.
Massive fuck you to everyone who is talking about Palestinians as if we’re already all dead and sharing more solidarity with our corpses than us living. “We will never forget the beautiful Palestinian people-“ how about you stop “making peace” with Palestinian extermination. My people are not going to be forgotten because we are going to live. Palestinians have already survived one genocide and have been surviving one ever since.
Do not ever let the idea that all Palestinians are going to die exist in your mind. Mourn the dead, fight like hell for the living.
It’s so upsetting to see how many people live the same heartbreaking reality. No child (no matter how old they are) should feel the burden of their parents negativity. No child should feel anger and pain because of their parents. It doesn’t have to be physical to effect you. I hope everyone finds healing and love no matter how hard it seems to be.
Man of the House
Some fathers are born miserable
I think
Or at least mine was
He had a rough childhood
He hardened his heart
Threw out his feelings- left unused
He stares at the world with dead eyes
Soon, he's gifted with children
You'd think kids would change him
But he remains a miserable man to this day
Dragging us through the muck of his pain
Allowing us to swallow his discomfort and agony
Instead of teaching us things
Like love and regulating feelings-the good, the bad, and the downright ugly
We learned how to be filled with rage and emptiness
How to yell until our voice bounces off the walls
Our faces red from our generational anger
We can't help but tether his suffering
To our bones
But as an "adult"
In her Wretched Twenties
Who sees him with fresh eyes
I will not be the keeper of my fathers' pain