insights of a repairing woman
We have to endure the discordance between imagination and fact. It is better to say, ‘I am suffering,’ than to say, ‘This landscape is ugly.’” – Simone Weil
My experience is mine alone and no one will know what that is like until I communicate it. Projecting it into something objective will only make others feel like their experience is not the one they should be having.
I long for a soft, sweet voice that’s knows me inside out to tell me exactly what to do.
Like a moth to a flame, be content with the warmth or else you’ll burn.
Cultivating compassion comes in many forms that live outside of your expectations of how to cultivate compassion.
Maybe one day I’ll figure out what I was to you because I never had the answer even when I asked you. I hope you didn’t think that telling me everything I’m not and everything I couldn’t be was enough.
You looked at me and smiled. I pretended to understand. If I didn’t, I would’ve dropped right then and there. It was worse than making up excuses for every day that had passed without hearing back from you. At least then, I could imagine you cared.
The moment our relationship fell apart mirrors the moment we saw something in each other.
You saw me as an outsider and wedged open space to bring me in.
Later, you saw me as an intruder and collapsed any space I held onto.
I didn’t know the savior could be the bully too.