Back to basics.
Mother Earth
Self-censorship makes me weep for all others that have ended up putting a fist in their mouth to prevent words that others my deem inappropriate from escaping.
Julia
One day I’m going to have a little girl. And I’ll name her Julia, like the Beatles song. She’ll wear pretty little dresses and flowers in her hair. She’ll love the ocean and dance in the rain and smile like the sun shines through her eyes.
And her heart will never be broken and she will never feel pain.
Here’s to you, Julia.
(Source: blink-183, via thetruthincliche)
Eyes are the windows to the soul.
(Source: fuckyeahspaceexploration, via desperatetobeclever)
When I can’t sleep, I draw what I would otherwise be dreaming about. Tonight, my dreams would be occupied by a little blue box floating through space, with a man that has seen it all.
Not enough.
Neglect. Abuse. Murder in the streets.
The problem with the world today is that there is not enough love. There is not enough compassion. There is not enough of a willingness to shrug a jacket off one’s back and hand it to his shivering neighbor. There is not enough.
Children are starving.
So what? The screen of my iPhone broke.
People are dying.
So what? I wanted peppermint gum and I only have wintergreen.
First world problems. A vast category of nonessential issues that manage to smear mud over the rosy lenses that our generation was brought up wearing. Tragedies of the absurd that we use as excuses to freeze time and lament. We have enough to complain about, but not enough love.
But here’s the thing: I have enough love.
I have more than enough love. I have a surplus of love. I have so much love that I would love nothing more than to cast handfuls at strangers through the window of my car. I have so much love that it seeps out my eyes and onto my face and rolls down my cheeks in a pitiful fervor. I have so much love that I stay awake at night, swimming in its deep oceans and exploring its twisting caverns, wondering how it all got there.
I have so much love and only so many opportunities to give it away. And, when I do bundle it up and distribute it to those brave enough, I must be certain to never overburden those fearless souls; those souls unafraid to be loved.
So, please. I implore you. Take my love. And, if it seems to be too much to handle, hand it out to those deprived of the heart’s touch. And then they can pass it along to their brothers and sisters and neighbors and friends. And, one day…maybe one day…there will be no need to say that there is not enough.
