Wouldn’t life be better if we are lighter and freer, that we no longer have to sleepwalk through life and can finally wake up excited?
How is it that life can be so unpredictable? One day everything looks good and you’re soaring. Suddenly, without a warning, you’re flat on the ground.
I can say I love you very often, and what’s wrong with that if I truly mean it? But if it’s saying purely just out of habit, then what is the point.
A prose poem — He touched her soul long before she felt his hands on her skin.
A prose poem about determination to rebuild life after trauma and brokeness. Life won’t give up on us if we don’t give up on life.
Will you create if no one appreciates; if it didn’t make you money; if you knew you would fail? If the answer is yes, that is a sign of genuine passion.
A prose poem — to love is to hurt. We can’t have one without the other. A person who has not been hurt has not truly been in love.
Life and death are not opposites but contribute and complement the overall process. Without either, the entire structure collapses.
A prose poem about the tale of two strangers on different journeys, along the same path.
A prose poem: The details of a moment is not as important as the company you spend it with.
A prose poem about the joy of indulging with a perfect cup of warm cocoa on a cold winter day.
A prose poem: Time slips pass but memories remain forever.
When we desire something, it isn’t the object or the event that we are after. What we are seeking is the feeling that comes with the attainment.
Why do we assume we need permission to do what we already know we want to do? Often, we are more or less already convinced of the direction we are heading.
Whichever areas you choose to prioritize, you are sacrificing others. Where you invest most of your time will provide you with the best returns.
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