“we all carry these things inside that no one else can see
they hold us down like anchors, they drown us out at sea” —chelsea smile
they hold us down like anchors, they drown us out at sea” —chelsea smile
August 2010
20 posts
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I Don’t Wanna Live On The Moon // Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Sesame Street Cover)
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a critical angle: plastic →
offsunset.tumblr.com
yesterday i walked out of the elevator into the immaculately clean office that is the dermatology center. it is a pristine microcosm completely cut off from the outside world, where customers’ wildest wishes can come true before their eyes. where hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions of dollars pass out of people’s hands, through the banking system, into professionals’ wallets, with no return whatsoever but an altered self image. this is not a profitable investment. a body has no guarantee of retaining improvements. time and gravity make sure of that. but for some, the cost is worthwhile: a pang of self-loathing temporarily allayed. the great darkness within momentarily illuminated by newfound outward glory. little do they know, or perhaps they know full well, that this rush is an addiction. fix one thing, fix it all. a black hole of unfulfilled insecurity. there is no greed like vanity. and with that thought, i followed the scrubs-clad lady through the swinging glass door and into the back room.
Give it up..
I can’t give it up
“The Invitation”
by Oriah
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.
It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”
It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.
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