December 2011
71 posts
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One Year Ago
I stood on the cliffs of the Cove at midnight, looking up at the moon and thinking about the year to come. Nothing could have prepared me for the series of events that occurred and changed who I was. I had no idea.
That night, I unknowingly met the first man I would say “I love you” to.
What will a new year bring this time? Something even my wildest dreams could not predict.
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alexithymia
(ah-lek-sah-THI-mee-ah) — inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner
This word is defined as an inability to verbally express or describe an emotion. It’s beautiful to the ear and perfect for when you’re feeling tongue tied.
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Everyone Complains
about how much they hate their family or a specific family member. But you know what?
I love my family.
Merry Christmas to the people who I look up to, the people who keep me sane, and the people who will support me no matter what. I’m unbelievably grateful for them.
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Anonymous asked: why arabic?
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الجمال يحيط بنا
My tattoo consists of the very words I think to myself every day. If there is a time when I no longer believe these words, I want to be reminded of their honesty. Because no matter what is happening in my life or in the lives of those around me, beauty surrounds us.
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The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don’t know...
– Wayne Dyer
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Guilty Pleasure.
I love coming home and looking at all the social networking posts that have been made in my absence, knowing that while these people have been blogging about how miserable they are, I’ve been having the best sex of my life.
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Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.
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The Night Dances
A smile fell in the grass. Irretrievable! And how will your night dances Lose themselves. In mathematics? Such pure leaps and spirals - Surely they travel The world forever, I shall not entirely Sit emptied of beauties, the gift Of your small breath, the drenched grass Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies. Their flesh bears no relation. Cold folds of ego, the calla, And the tiger,...
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Ta Douleur
Qu’est-ce qu’elle veut cette conasse ? Le beurre ou l’argent du beurre ? Que tu vives ou que tu meures ?
Faut qu’elle crève de bonheur Ou qu’elle change de godasses Faut qu’elle croule sous les fleurs
Change de couleur…
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Together.
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Our sense of worth, of well-being, even our sanity depends upon our remembering....
– Joyce Appleby