And The Hardest Thing About Being In Love, Is The Moment After.

And the hardest thing about being in love, is the moment after.

~T.R.

And we carve our names into every inch of bark that will bear them, and sit long enough by the water that it remembers how to murmur our names long after we Are gone. Let the trees remind me I could lose myself here. And let the breeze remind me that this does not have to be a bad thing.

That the demonization of loss is a human construct. That to lose does not mean to be less. And that the fear of less, is too, a human fear. And the soil beneath my feet tells me that I do not need those fears here. Tells me that this is a kind place to relinquish my mortality.

I tell them I am afraid to become nothing. Afraid to lose. And mother nature wordlessly whispers of my fickle human belief of loss's finality. Breathes me memories of trees losing leaves and animal's losing lives and rivers losing shape as its own currents deform its silhouette and asks me:

Is mother nature still not everything?

I tell her I am not nature. I am not her.

And she sends her tides of sunlight to bathe away my doubt. Reminds me I do not need to be everything. Just to know that I am part of it and that it is part of me. And is that not everything enough?

A Throw back to this post to celebrate over 4,000 followers, thank you loves for giving me so much, love, support and a platform to share my writing, thoughts, rants and little peices of my soul :')

When you follow over a thousand blogs but have less than 35 followers 😢😹😅

The thing about the budding landscape of the suburb I call my home is that it is not enough of anything.

Not enough bustle to be a city and yet too many city lights to be a small town. Not enough trees and Green grass expanse to be countryside but too many perfectly unobstructed sunrises to be urban landscape. Not enough traffic but too many crowded sidewalks.

Not enough buzz to get lost in and yet too much to feel known. Not enough noise to drown out my doubt but too much to trust. Not enough unfamiliarity to feel enthralled and yet too much to feel enchanted.

So much potential to be so much more than it is. But it seems to be stuck here in the in between. Never quite fulfilled or fulfilling.

Construction projects and Skeletal high rises litter once open fields now waiting upturned Earth, Stripped of its ability to Grow, And yet buildings remain unbuilt.

And yet it's people stay and its people invest . Wait for it to become everything they dreamed

And maybe it will

But I wonder if I will be around long enough to see it. Wonder who will outgrow who first

Wonder if my home will leave me behind