Even when we can’t find the words to express how we feel about ourselves, we have the ability to fill in the blanks by visualizing the hues that best reflect the beats of the emotions that churn in our hearts and overwhelm our thoughts. A red stain can signify deep fondness in one position but in a different truth it also holds the intensity of anger. The softer blues of the forget-me-nots can be the reminders of sadness while also being steadfast in the out of the blue wins where we find something other than what we had originally hoped for. Yellow is believed to represent our sunlit moments but, in the darkness, it is also the light that illuminates what desperately needs to be seen in that cave. Black and white speaks for matters that are clearly defined but when we turn around, the use of those two colors implies that there is a void in the understanding of the shading that lives in and around all of our renderings. Even the pigment of the powerful phrase “I love you” fluctuates whether we are amongst the blush of the flowers that feel like a hug in our hearts, or we are moving through the foliage where a thousand brown thorns pierce us. Unfortunately, it’s far too easy for us to let go of our courage when the stamp of our fear bleeds into the colors of our dreams or to neglect our fondness when the parts that we hate muddy our palettes leaving us unable to see what we love in the mess. What’s there can take us anywhere but if our hearts ache from the flow of emotions, the dark hues will feel stronger than the aspects of the other possibilities that live within us as well. In essence, all of our expanding and contracting feelings, or at the very least their tints, travel together with us through our twisting journeys but they never promise to only show up in the moments that we want to feel. For instance, today I am feeling the blues from the memories that still need reshaping within me as well as the rosiness of the perfectly imperfect love that has been placed along my trail. As a masterpiece in the making, that look upon my story is why I need boxes of tissues to dab at the tears from the rich laughter that makes my stomach hurt and the ones that fall like a rain that slowly washes the opaque parts of me. Every piece of our stories will be decorated so we might as well take them by the hand and live in the truth of epic tales where there’s a kind of magic that knows how to use the staggering grassy weeds to form the most beautiful flowers and writing in our own colors is the key to defeating the dragons that plague us.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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