Wisdom is not something that is given to you. It is something you earn. All the things you experience the hard way is a lesson learned.
All the pain and the tears. The stress and your fears. The memories and the mistakes. The love and the heartbreaks.
We've all asked why and never got an answer. We all hate goodbyes, makes all sweet thoughts become bitter.
There are times that you feel hopeless. Days we just can't take it anymore. And we believe that it is endless. That there's no happiness to wait for.
But the one thing you can't deny, is that somehow you survived. And you are stronger than you know. Because anyone else would've given up a long time ago.
You went above and beyond expectation. You are an inspiration. Don't be ashamed of what you failed. Because whatever you've been through, you lived to tell the tale.
You should be proud. You should say it out loud. The past is history, all the tragedy and the misery. But the future is there for liberty and victory.
Wisdom is not something that was given to you. It is something you have earned. And all the things you've experienced the hard way is a lesson learned.
About the Creator
Chasity Sosa
I also have an account on wattpad. Cindy3 if you want to read some of my stuff there. But nice to meet everyone. I've always wanted to be a writer. So I came here hoping to make it come true. Please check out my works!
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskar2 days ago in Feast
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