My Type?beautiful Tragedies.

my type? beautiful tragedies.

Leilah Ali (via wnq-writers)

Obscene Mechanics

Even saints Have a moment Of weakness Indicative Of faith That is tested Under stress In response To disaster By the obscene Mechanics Of loss-

That is everyday Lived Without question   Of the emptiness Thought To be easy Or spent In the science Of static Like a theory Of noise Without end

A sound And sin Of omission Attributed To cause   For abandon   That’s blamed On the laws Of devotion Whose precedent Is death By our need

To acquire And beg Such acceptance In pursuit Of a dream That is distant And solace At the edge Of obsession We barter And beg With our hearts

As martyrs Of hope In seclusion For an anger And math Gone imbalanced Like equations Unsolved For an answer And philosophy Taught Is our mess  

Without proof Or distinct Provocation But the absence Of love In our waiting For the semblance Of God In some partner Or evidence As close As it gets.

- J. Pigno

You cannot change the past… But you can choose how you remember it.

veru-summerlover, •If I were to write a book it would be about us•  (via wnq-writers)

I dare you to romanticize.

Romanticize your scars. Find truth in retelling their origins like they’re battle wounds. See the power in surviving anything that made a lasting mark, on your skin or on your soul. You are a warrior. You have celebrated countless victories and outlasted so many defeats. When it’s again time to fight, you won’t surrender. You’ll gain a story to tell another day.

Romanticize your senses. The shadows that play in the corners of your eyes are your guides. Let them show you the adventure in the mundane. See the life in passersby that you will never meet again, and imagine their stories. Find the joy in surprises that interrupt your routine. Let smells be intoxicating. Let sounds fill your body with an inexplicable fire. You think you hear someone whisper your name as you walk down the street, but when you look up, you see no one. Believe that you just missed an angel. It will try again when you’re ready.

Romanticize your surroundings. Feel how morning sunlight coaxes you awake. See the ocean in the ripples of your blankets, how they fold and unfurl like waves and wrap themselves around your body. There are specks of dust floating in the air. Understand it as the fairy dust of our world. There is magic in the moments that pass as you drift from unconscious to aware. Take care not to miss them.

Romanticize yourself. Find no shame in viewing yourself as a protagonist. Know that days you feel you’ve wasted only add to future experiences. Find your faults and honor them. Your imperfections are the shadows that give your highlights depth. Without them, you’d lose all dimension. Your life is scrawled in ink on weathered pages. Hear pens scratching paper as the words of your story come alive. It is a miracle of probability that you exist. That alone is worth celebrating.