conversations with myself

“When the nights are cold and the only warmth you have is the little family you’ve managed to create by disclosing bits of yourself to people you’d never thought you would, you realise how important  the little symbols of home are. Like your blanket, or your favourite sweatshirt. The little symbols of love and loss and everything you’ve ever felt – they suddenly hold so much value.”

“But that’s the issue with us. We don’t want to open up, we’re so scared of nothing and when we accidentally do open up, it feels like a breath of fresh air, it’s like being found again. People use these metaphors to describe love but I think they are as applicable in regular friendships too. We want to be found and noticed and observed and thought of. “

“But then there’s self-love and all that internet talk that’s apparently supposed to make you feel better.”

“What’s wrong in a little external validation?”

“Nothing. It’s just that you don’t always get it.”

“Yep, that’s when your acceptance of yourself comes to your rescue.”

“But it’s the middle of the night and it’s pouring profusely.”

“Close your eyes.”

“It’s rain; I can feel it on the surface of my skin, like a sheath of unfortunate events that can’t be shaken off.”

“Why do you want to shake it off? Why can’t you let it be there.”

“Because I don’t like it.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Acceptance, dear friend, it all goes back to that.” “Why are you silent?” “Look up, say something.”

“I thought I could love my chaos.”

“You can’t. No one can.”

“Then?”

“Embrace it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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