Color Me Rad

This was one of the most amazing days I have had this year! I would do it again in a heartbeat :) Excuse the chubbiness... Best way to kick off my mission to lose weight!

 

Until later lovelies,

 

JNR <3 font="">

....

Every once in awhile, do something you’re afraid of doing. Do something you’ve never done before.

I’ve never believed in the phrase “you or he or she deserve(s) better". My best friend told me 4 years ago, when she was going through a breakup, that there is not one single human being who is worth more or less than anybody else, so that if you believe someone “deserves better", you “go be better". You voluntarily “get better" until you fit in that particular dumb Theory Of The Most Overly Used Typical Three Word Long Phrase.

Sadly, it isn’t I Love You.

I’ve never believed in letting go if the love is still there. The 12 year old in me who childishly wrote on her mirror with her mother’s old Rose Red lipstick “I want forever love" and saw, surprisingly, that one day she had written in response beneath it “there is no such thing (except that of a mother and her child)" never wanted to believe it. But mothers always seem to have an innate instinct on having this weird all-knowing knowledge especially for her baby. She is the same person, the first but not only person, to tell me that love isn’t enough. I think I wrote, a few years back, that I understood it when I got older. Well, to reiterate— I understand it, now.

I’ve always wanted to believe in the almost lame quote “you know you really love someone when you just want them to be happy, even if their happiness excludes you". It almost ties back to the whole you-deserve-better idea.

So when someone tells you to do something that frightens you, something that seems so foreign and falls off the range of your comfort— it doesn’t always have to be conquering your fear of heights and plunging off a plane into the sky. It can be subtle. It’s probably a lot harder to do than sky-diving.

I’ve never let go of something so worthy without a long exhausting fight. But I’m beginning to think— who do I think I am? Whatever goes, let go.

I did

And if you ever come around to ask me why I didn’t stay,
why didn’t I continue to pick up your calls in the A.M.
how, in the year and a half that we’ve been apart, did I find the
audacity to let it go
I hope that you know—
that I missed the sunlight on your face,
that I couldn’t see the freckles and sunspots
that I loved so much,
if you only held me in the dark—
that I have missed the childish laying-on-our-backs
(in-the-middle-of-the-street-and-night)
connecting the constellations and
our standing-in-pouring-rain, screaming type of
fights,
that I haven’t found the comfort in
kissing the way I did, with you
that I’m still thankful when you taught me
How To Really Kiss.
that I’ve missed the 4AM drives
and your humor that brought out mine—
that I’ve missed it all so much
that every time I write,
I probably hurt somebody who
loves me,
at the time.

So what changed,
you asked,
the static barely making out
your voice
that I used to miss so much
that I would dig up old videos
of us,
just to hear
again and again
until the tears would come.
“I did.”
I did, I did, I did.
And I can’t be sorry for moving on
and finding somebody who loves me—
all the time
and
all at once.

...

My father told me that if I should ever fall in love, that I love right. That if it is not the type that ignites fire and is wholeheartedly blissful, then it is not worth pursuing. He told me that my personality is bold because I've lived through many bitter seasons. And that the reason for my stubborn perseverance is because my hands are accustomed to having nothing. Most of my life has been lived through more darkness than light. We don’t tell people of our stories because very few like to read between the lines. And I agree that the man for me will be the one that understands my darkness because he’s lived through his own. Not everything in life ever turns out the way we plan it to. I just hope that whenever the time comes, I will love and be loved right.

To Me

Love is being held in somebody’s arms for 40 minutes straight and they don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness to it. And love is forgetting they did that for you because love is hard to stay.

Love is rage spread thin. It is madness. It is the depths in which we've gone to profess and to prove, love is sadness. Love has made me cry at my reflection in the mirror, love has made me scream and claw at it. It has turned me unrecognizable, impermeable through my running mascara and the scars upon my skin. Love is shattering glass and love is running barefoot at night in a neighborhood of barbed wires and metal around the windows. Love is destruction, to peel away at the layers of your skin and bones and to watch your flesh on the dirt remake themselves anew. Love is disgustingly pathetic, self-humiliation and love is blindness. Love is pure devotion. It is mean and it is fabricated. It’s all that it is cracked out to be and a little more. Love is the fine line between fucking and making, it is felt by the most wasted hearts. Love makes you cringe. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck curl like grapevines only to tighten and choke the tears you promised yourself you would not cry. Love makes you beautiful and so so ugly, at the same time. It is the diabolic hope dangled on a string, the purposeful pulsing of blood, the fleeting moments of coherence, of infinite. It is the plight of the hopeful and the hopeless, it is the medium in which we find ourselves most comfortably insane. And then, when you come back down, you find that love is.. humbling. It is the softest and prettiest affliction. And it is so so so so fucking real.

I see yoooooou

Whatever it is that you're looking for here, you won't find it. Look for your validation somewhere else. I don't have what you're looking for to justify what you may be feeling. 

Later Sweetie. 

JNR

For You...

"I want you to tell me about every person you've ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn't think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name just by the way you describe your bedroom when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman? Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice how the tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mothers’ joy when she first spoke it for the very first time. I want you to tell me all the ways you've been unkind. Tell me all the ways you've been cruel. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds"

- Andrea Gibson