tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #431 by Tyler Knott Gregson

From 12484 km away I can feel the hope. The way it radiates out between the pixels and the filters chosen to frame it. It takes courage to go against the grain. To go against what you have been taught. What you have been forced to think, do, and behave. I can see the happiness in both sets of eyes. The relief of being reunited that reinforces that the decision made was a good one. How do you stay connected when you are separated by oceans. What fuels the choice to abandon everything you know and leave your continent for his. I suppose it’s the hope that I can see and feel even though I am 12484 km away.

Generally the fear keeps it in check. The fear of going back to the dark. Yet sometimes I can feel it crawling back. The sickness seeping into my brain. It drips down my neck. It nestles into my shoulder. It get’s lost in the monotony of everyday. Wake, shower, eat, commute, work, eat, text, commute, write, sleep. It’s harder to wake. It’s harder to shower. I often feel selfish. I should not feel so derailed. Yet I do and the guilt is revived  You make plans and decisions which alter your hopes and your dreams. Everyone does this because your dreams must be compatible with your hopes. Innocence is trumped by reality. You forfeit your dreams to fulfill your hopes. What happens when you are faced with not achieving your hope? Such a hope that I thought I was entitled to. It was so simple. Everybody has it. The white picket fence. It’s not so simple. I ache for it. I risk everything for it. I am hurt and broken but I keep licking my wounds and going back for more. Yet I’m not sure why I do. I don’t get anything from it, other then the hurt. I can not control it.  Alone yet together. Alone and Alone. It’s always there regardless of the configuration. What if I didn’t want it. Instead I sacrificed the hope for the dream. Would I have the dream and no hope? Or the same as now, no dream and no hope.

nickmiller:

After everything she’d been through—all the heartbreak, all the loss—the light in her eyes was still undimmed. It gave him a lovely hope.

I hate the feeling of bitterness. It seems to always entrench my soul entirely, creating a thin vale that clouds my perception of the world. It is something that comes and goes in a cyclical fashion. The more chances I take, the older I get, the longer it takes for me to push it away.

However when I do, this giddy feeling always rushes over me. It cleanses me of the bitterness. The back of my mind always questions the giddiness, knowing that somehow it will probably lead me back to the bitterness. It’s a, “Dude i’m a trouble!” feeling.

However for now I enjoy the moment. I savor it and embrace it, as I always miss it. I love the moment where it shifts. The bitterness dissipates and the giddiness takes over.

And so it begins…

twloha:

“After the Storm”
Mumford & Sons

“On my knees and out of luck, I look up.”

A desperate plea. A realization that I can’t do it alone anymore. Choosing the possibility of something more. Something greater.

“Not this mind and not this heart, I won’t rot.”

Having the courage and the determination to not give in. Believing in myself and trusting that I matter. Knowing my own importance and that I fit into a role that was meant specifically for me. Perseverance through the things that try to tell me different.

“And I took you by the hand, and we stood tall and remembered our own land. What we lived for.”

Reaching out. Togetherness, shared secrets in the space between our hands. Remembering that we know how to be happy, and taking pride in the lives we have lived.

“And now I cling to what I knew. I saw exactly what was true.”

This song tells a story. It’s your story and mine. A story of losing faith, of feeling so lost that it’s hard to know if being found is possible.

It’s also a story of redemption.

Of trusting yourself to take control of your life and surround yourself with a community, even if it’s only one person, that you can rely on and can rely on you as well.

“And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no my tears. And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.”

And then, it’s a story of hope.

Hope is an idea that I’ve struggled with for a long time. I resigned myself believing there was no hope for me and that I had to accept my lot in life. It was easier that way, but I didn’t realize what I was missing out on by giving up. Until my life fell apart. As I struggled to pick up the pieces and put them back together, I found the tiniest hope among the wreckage.

“Get over your hill and see what you find there. With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.”

It was strange and unfamiliar, but I I was drawn to it. That hope then turned into a dream that turned into a vision. In that vision, I was happy. I was surrounded by people I loved and who loved me in return. My soul was filled to the brim with contentedness and joy. I started to believe the vision could be true. In a singular moment I not only knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this vision was possible, but also exactly what I had to do to make it a reality. I had to choose.

While I have a new found confidence in my ability to lead a meaningful life, there still are, and always will be, days where I find my faith in myself wavering, or where I stray from the path I’m forging for myself. On those days I can turn to this song to remind me not to lose hope. The tears will dry, the heartbreaks prepare me for what comes next, and every hill that stands in my way serves as a landmark on the road to a place where even the smallest hope can become the realest of things.

—Jesse
Spring 2012 Intern

graciouswords:

I can’t offer the moon

I’d never promise the stars

or deliver the fairytale,

but what I can give you

is one hundred percent

commitment and a loyal

heart that will always love 

you. 

I have recently discovered this mans work and it repeatedly melts my black heart.  Each piece articulates rich emotions with such a brilliant undertone of hope! This is one of my favorites…

(via graciouswords)