*custom illustration made for atmosferic.ro and their new wedding foto albums.
To the ones that have fallen from their own standards, the ones who have broken their wings due to recklessness and carelessness.
You can lick your wounds and resent the wind as you look at your shattered parts. But deep down, you know you were made for high places.
So pick up your pieces.
It will hurt. But there is nothing for you down here; you’re a daughter of the sky.
I feel within myself the utmost desire, an unquenchable thirst for wonder.
How deeply the things unknown and unseen captivate my imagination.
It’s almost like my home is elsewhere, and here, I’m just a traveler.
And on my journey I cannot help but think that there is so much more beyond mere flesh and bones, beyond this big blue floating dot we call home.
“Where are we going” I asked.
“That, my dear, entirely depends on where your journey takes you.”
“Then I must make sure I get this journey right…”
“It’s not about getting it right, it’s about the exact opposite: realizing you will never get it right on your own, and letting the beauty of that reality set you free.
It’s about learning to stop looking at yourself and learning to look up.”
Shed the layers of your blame,
Free of sorrow, free of shame,
Free of fear, accepting pain,
No more worrying in vain.
Letting go is your new name.
Like a little kid afraid of the dark, you find yourself again and again.
Now you are older and the monsters are different each time. They change. They are bigger now. They look like failure, worry, doubt and insecurity.
So just like the little kid you were, you leave the door open just enough for a beam of light to make it through; just a crack. Just enough so that you can hear papa’s voice whispering: “everything is going to be ok.”
Here’s the thing about anxiety: you learn to cope. It becomes bareable.
But no one asks about the in-betweens, about the mortifying gray areas, the moments in which time stands still and you are staring your broken pieces in the face. The moments you pull yourself back up, never really knowing how you managed to do so on your own yet again. The exhausting, excruciating, gray areas.
You are stronger after each battle. But always carry the fear of the next.
Still, you cling to hope, the only thing that pushes you to seek the light in the midst of darkness.
Together we grow in the same direction, towards the same goal, never quite finished but always changing and learning.
As the years go by, we start to look like each other more and more, like two distinct protagonists that slowly come together to lead the same story.
Îmi plac mult
Mâinile-n absurda lor inteligență,
Cum nimeni nu le-a învățat
Și totuși au prudență.
Îmi place felul cum cunosc
Prin simple, mici atingeri,
Cum mângâie și-s adăpost
Pentru-ale noastre plângeri.
Îmi plac la nebunie mâinile,
Extensii ale inimii,
Îmi plac, nu știu, e o obsesie,
Sunt antidot pentru tristețe,
Sunt tot ce și-ar dori un om,
Mână = tandrețe.
— Rachel | Hela
And you wonder where she learnt,
That beauty lies upon your skin,
So that she thinks it doesn’t cover everything she holds within,
It breaks your heart to know her mirror,
Is how she estimates her worth,
And not the lives she’s made much better,
By simply being on this earth.