The other night I helped a friend house-sit.
I'm not a cat person, and yet this little devil took it upon himself to sleep like so. On my face.
Needless to say, I was wide-eyed and frozen like this for a number of hours.
But, as it turns out, some cats aren't pompous snobs too good for cuddles. Thanks to Tigger - I'd like to publicly acknowledge my false generalisations in the past about the feline species. I'd still rather a dog around my neck, but you aren't ALL bad 😽
I have the lowest tolerance for lying.
Living mostly connected with "The Sage" archetype : Deception is naturally my biggest pain point.
I see lying as a form of violence.
Someone who lies is choosing to actively withhold truth from another person.
And the love of my life, the thing I desire most, the thing I strive for everyday: is Truth.
I used to try to empathize, and understand, and do all the work to be compassionate, and still try to help love or honor someone who lied (knowing they must be in pain & confusion to do so) and 2017 was the year I decided to stop.
It's a mark of low integrity.
And it's not my job, your job, or anyone's job to hold a liars hand and try to help them if they're not willing to help themselves.
Just say peace & walk away.
I used to think the most expensive thing you could give me as a child is a ring.
Foolish & naive, right?
Time made me realise it's value.
Time showed me that infront of it nothing is more costlier & pricey.
Then came a day when you took my hand and proposed me, you asked me, what do I want?
I was glad I knew what to say by now, what to demand from you.
It was your time. Not all of it but some of it.
Some of it to pluck flowers together, watch the sunsets hand-in-hand, go for long drives, work out (in all the possible ways), make some love, cook and sleep like a log together, everyday of the year.
I love that you gave me the best of yourself, I love that you gave me all of your time.
A diamond ring could never be as lovely as your presence.
Diamond rings could be purchased but not your time. Our time. Ever. .
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When she became the tree, she didn’t know it as first. She still felt solid. Her hair long and flowing. She always smelled of fresh flowers. That all remained. Yet she found herself hanging over the ledge by her childhood home, looking into the water. She wasn’t falling which she thought strange. She only saw the willow tree in the reflection. Where was her own face? How did she get here? She had been walking home from the market, bags in hand, hustling to cross the road. She was already late to meet the man she hoped to marry. It was the only thought in her head at the time. Gazing into the water now, it came back to her. The screech, the crunch of metal, the coldness that hit her side quickly. Now she was here, in the tree she climbed as a girl. Her hair, or what she imagined to be hair, dipped in the water playfully. It appeared this was it. Panic started to fill her until she heard a familiar voice call out. Her father who had be gone many years prior. Somehow he was there. The panic subsided. She sank deeper into the tree, the one whose branches she had once trusted to hold her. Now she trusted them again.