He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the room warmer somehow, her future within its walls seeming a little less bleak.
They were more like shadows than physical beings - lightly resembling humans-shape wise, but only black smoke. Each form rippled whenever it moved like disturbed water. The only way I knew they were looking at me was the white eyes with a slight blue hue that stood out against the darkness.
How is it we keep saying that love and compassion are the answers, then letting the politicians fool us into pathways that are obviously neither. There are the small hiccups in living that build us stronger, then there are the calamities that break the brain, the body and spirit, forcing a survivalist and competitive culture that is counter to the messages of faith, of brotherhood, of caring for our global neighbours. Adverse childhood events cause damage to the brain, alter DNA expression and increase deadly illness. Love is love. Fear is fear. Indifference to the suffering of others is the first step into real evil. We owe it to ourselves, to our children and to our creator to see though these illusions of power and money, to learn to see the pain and fear, to ask how love can be our solution, how our faith has been giving us the answer all along.
Humans are weird creatures. They search for perfecion in others, although there's no perfection in them. We sit around judging people simply because of one poor judgment or choice. Their interest in the same sex. Not being the right kind of shape or color. Or a tragic outcome of a family affair. The point is that it's not our place to judge. But we do.When you point at a person, five fingers are pointing back at you, or that's what my sister would say when I would rat her out. There will always be something shameful in the eyes of society. We judge to feel superior, to feel good about ourselves. Oh, she did this, which is not as bad as what I did. It seems as though what we did isn't bad anymore. Someone does something much worse and it seems to completely erases what you have done. That's what we do, whether we are aware of it or not. For the reason that we are human. Sugarcoating things have become second-nature to us. We blind ourselves from the truth in order to allow ourselves to believe we are doing right. Just so we can sleep better at night.
Tell me, is anything truly perfect in this world? Is there such a thing as the perfect body? The perfect face? The perfect family? Or even perfect love? As humans we try to create and work for perfection. Something pretty or successful to show off the world. We can do evil things to achieve our goals, if we want it bad enough. It is just instinct. In all truth, perfection does not exist in the world. This is what I have led to believe. We may reach for perfection, but we will always fail. Because we are humans. We are flawed and whatever we create will be flawed also.
We all have have urges, whims, a long yearning to do things we are not suppose to or things we shouldn't want. Everyday is a battle. A battle to not fall into those sinful desires. I was in that battle too. Unfortunately, I was not victorious. Laughter... That's all I heard, laughter and harmful words. Words that can even cut a diamond.
To break me, you must show empathy. Yelling and shouting your frustrations about my lack of work, or need to shape up, won't help your cause. I'll only stand firm in my resolution to not give in to your tempestuous voice. To break me, you must show kindness. If I have a low performance on tests, "Are you okay?" instead of, "STUDY HARDER, YOU IDIOT!" will make me try harder. I want to please those who care. I want those who love me to see me do well. If you love me, and outwardly show it, you will break me.
These spectacles bring all into focus, the things I want to see and the things the heart would rather not.
And in that future the developed nations chose gratitude over entitlement and saw that they owed a great debt to the developing nations. For so long their produce had come picked by a starving hand in a far off land. Their financial systems had plundered without mercy while they were blinded by their own struggles. They became the engineers of the future, the helpers, deeply respectful of other cultures. They built the infrastructure needed for a modern world, nation helping nation, cooperating, not competing, loving and humane.
The opposite of teaching hate is teaching love and appreciation - not tolerance or blindness. If hate is ice, then love is warmth and tolerance is a cold neutral. If you want to melt ice, be warm. If you want to combat hate then love with a passion. Instead of "blindness" show others how to see beauty in whom they fear. Show them how to make the loving bonds of true and lasting friendship.
Isn’t it funny, that if I had made a different decision I wouldn’t be here now? If I had put a different answer on that sheet, my fate would’ve been written in different ink. Because if I was sat here in a different universe, without you by my side, I would have never become complete.
There is a kind of blue that is a celebration of soft confidence, of a deep resolve to show truth. It is the blue of the ocean waves and the sky in any season. For the kind of strength that wins, as with the blue, is flexible depending on the weather. No matter what happens it is there, reliable and strong.
Street music brought life to the otherwise concrete experience of the city.
The boy's eyes were green but not the kind of shade that's easy to describe. It was almost like they were both green and yellow at the same time, with blue creeping in around the edges as if it were trying to take over. He blinked and the beauty was momentarily covered by the shield of his eyelashes; naturally long and soft looking - feminine compared to the rest of his well structured features. By the time the boy's eyes opened again, I had still not recovered from his intense stare. It was a stare that communicated the boy's former pain, and his wish for me to let go and to move on. But I could not move on, just as I could not forget those glaring eyes whose light never faded even in death.