Memories are such wondrous things...
They can make you laugh, or make you cry...
Make your heart break with missing someone.
Such a special gift.
Bitter sweet,
but special none-the-less.
- ashleigh.
- Calgary, Alberta, Canada
- I'm a simple soul. Discovering truth and enjoying beauty and love are a few of my favorite things in life. I'm most alive when I'm outdoors. Beneath a star-crested sky or walking the oceanside barefoot, all was created in the beauty of the one I live for. Welcome to my page. I dont boast of possessing extensive wisdom, or exquisite abilities in poetry by any means, but now that your here, I pray that you may enjoy and profit from what you find.
Friends
- alexandra.
- alexandra.
- amy.
- anna.
- betty.
- bryce.
- caleb.
- cassley sisters.
- crow.
- danial.
- dwight.
- glynis.
- jesse.
- jillian.
- joal.
- joel.
- jonathan.
- joshua.
- joshua.
- kevin and melissa.
- krista.
- l'afrique.
- lindsay.
- lindsey.
- lindsey.
- mark.
- martin.
- melissa.
- Mike J.
- Mike J.
- olio art.
- peter.
- ray.
- sarah lozie.
- smallgroup.
- wrinkled paper.
5 comments:
Memories often bite my soul into a bitter remorse. So I never know what to do with them, or what to make of them. I normally find much more solace in dreams then memories, vanity no doubt, but vain solace. I do not doubt that they are wonderfully amazing, being able to go back and visit past events, to look at how someone reacted, or spoke, their kind words. Yet there is such pain in our memories, I rarely desire to go back and crush my heart again. That is what I normally see, crushing blow after crushing blow, each time, changing, my self. Perhaps I have searched for what my soul longs for most too much, I could never say, I do not see through Gods eyes. I keep searching, because there is hope no matter how faint, I need to stop looking for love in people.
I feel like Erwin Mcmanus
"In the midst of a lot of talking and laughing, suddenly there was a loud scream of pain. The person I knew least, but frankly was attracted to most, had begun walking barefooted, and she stepped on a piece of glass.
It was impossibly for her to take another step. Everyone was concerned , and every guy wanted to help, but fate seemed to lean in my direction. I was the only one who could pick her up and carry her. Thank God for hanging out with a bunch of geeks. I picked her up and carried her for what must have been nearly a mile back to the dorm, all downhill, or at least that’s how it seemed. It was magic. She was light, I was strong, or I was highly motivated. And like the plot of a classic novel, a romance was born-the kind you only read about and read with envy. You know true love, and epic romance, classic Shakespeare.
It lasted a couple of months.
This brings me to the problem with love. It woos you like a lamb headed toward the slaughter. It steals your heart with promises that seem almost too good to be true, and then you discover that was exactly right.
We are driven by love, driven to love, and even driven from love."
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