#growth

2166 posts
  • spacedude 9h

    leftover tragedy

    Jane walked through the gallery smelling like a leftover tragedy and went straight to her grandmother's room. She knelt on the floor and lifted the lid of a glass jar kept in the corner. Letters tied with jute threads, dried roses and old photographs sat in the jar, the weak rays of sunlight illuminated them, returning vigour and energy that they had long since lost.

    The thin layer of dust on the top made her wonder why she'd never gotten rid of it, Jane would never know now.

    She removed the lid and let out the scent of lingering tears and roses as she did.

    She gently reached in, extracting the letters with care and as an after thought, she raised one of the aged roses to her nose and sniffed it. The faint aroma rushed into her nose and flooded her mind, reminding her of carefree days spent bathing in thick golden rays of light beneath a sky peppered with clouds.

    Jane laid the rose to rest back in the jar with the other wilted roses and their pale petals before sitting on the edge of the bed, letters in hand.

    With light fingers she removed the thread binding the letters and pictures together, placing the yellowing Polaroids beside her and she began to read.

    The youth-soaked letters spoke of love, pure, unbridled, passionate love. How her grandmother had abandon the opportunity to dance with the greats of ballet when love had sparked in heart. Most of the letters were sweet, she and her lover longing for each other but that quickly faded as she poured over them. The story of a ballerina who came from nothing and hoped to be something, throwing it all away for a man who left her alone, broken. Her swift immersion back into the arts only to have the arts break her body after her heart had been devastated. By now the letters had changed, her handwriting had become frantic, tears had twisted the ink, turning it into soft swirls but still she read on.

    Jane searched for the date in the corner, finding July 1968. Only twenty eight years old and suffering had solidified its grip on her, Jane thought, struggling to reconcile the sadness in these letters with the bright blue eyes of her grandmother that seemed to leak happiness.

    She read on as she found happiness in painting and creating, smiling as her passion was reignited.

    There were gaps between the dates, sometimes months or even years.

    She continued on, reading of how her grandmother continued through the pain of her injury, not stopping when the world made her stop. Tears escaped her eyes, she thought they'd by dry by now but they came all the same only this time, sadness didn't pump them from her ducts but admiration. Admiration as the woman who had raised her survived pain, heartbreak, loss of a daughter and tragedies few would ever experience till she came to the final letter.

    This one had Jane scrawled over the front.

    Tentatively, her fingers trembling as she broke the seal and it drew the letter from within the envelope's depths.

    She waited with baited breath, focusing on the first two words, 'Dear Jane,'

    She inhaled before reading on.

    'You must have found my letters by now which means either I've gone crazy or the cancer got me but don't feel bad for me. Those letters are just memories, a few that created the person I am. They were lessons in life, lessons I hope can show you that darkness is momentary, fleeting. Remember that I love you and that passion, passion for life will make it worth while in the end.'

    'Goodbye,'

    Jane smiled, wiping the tears from her face. She wrapped the jute thread around the letters before dropping them back into the jar. Her hands browsed through the photos, feeling their smooth texture as she watched the face of her grandmother through the years before placing those too in the jar and sealing it with the lid.

    She stood and walked to the door, the jar nestled in arm.

    "Goodbye gran' mama," she said to the silence before shutting the door.

    ©spacedude

  • unknown_writter_exist 16h

    Number of Haters is directly proportional to the personal growth.
    ©unknown_writter_exist

  • jeetspeaks 3d

    We grow everyday

    Like plants and trees, we humans too grow everyday, both physically and mentally. The growth may be so small that it is not clearly visible, but it can be felt.
    ©jeetspeaks

  • mch_randomthoughts 3d

    Honesty

    It's time you learn to admit
    When you're lying to yourself
    When you're manipulating yourself
    You should know better than that
    It's time to grow up

    ©mch_randomthoughts

  • bloomingcloud98 4d

    Fate

    Don't fight fate accept it and grow from it amor fati
    ©bloomingcloud98

  • jeetspeaks 1w

    Problems are tests

    Problems in our life are like tests that make us keep going with the hope of scoring better every time.
    ©jeetspeaks

  • mercury_ 1w

    Blistering indifference billows upwards from a soul pacified
    Through hell I’ve strode, walked, and crawled
    Through strife, I’ve pulled at walls of concrete and flame
    And through stress and passion, I’ve reached indifference evermore comforting
    Though tomorrow will bring what is yet to be known
    Though yesterday has brought wounds and a symphonic whaling of coarseness
    I shed not a bead of sweat in wasted anxiety, nor fret at what’s been lost
    For the mark left upon me by each blow to my shell both inside and out no longer looms around me as if artillery strikes well placed
    Rather now, embers settle at my feet, as fire burns from within
    Whereas I used to seek warmth in the smoldering wounds placed upon me, it is now that my warmth is found from within the deepest pit of my chest, and the strongest kiln in my gut


    ©mercury_

  • __haneefahh 1w

    I hope that if in any case I hurt someone
    I am able to apologise without giving excuses
    The pain is heart searing honestly

  • wifey_suicide 1w

    Baby and Flower

    You take a seed from the apple and dig it a grave.
    Instead of dying
    Reaching to the top as it grows
    Just like a fetus
    The seed turns into roots
    Sucking in the nutritions
    As the baby grows

    A couple months go by
    Leafs are sprouting
    You see the little guy’s face
    He’s about to start kicking
    As the sprouts gets use to the sun
    The baby can now identify it’s own mother
    As she sings a little tune

    It starts to rain pour
    The flower blooms
    A baby is born
    A brain cell and stem cell
    Both created a life
    ©wifey_suicide

  • spontaneous_flow_of_emotion 1w

    The hemlock growing within my heart is poisoning me inside out and my lungs wrapped in barb wires is suffocating me to death.
    ©spontaneous_flow_of_emotion

  • teokannan 1w

    Mindset

    Mind should not be set.
    Neither growth mindset. Nor "fixed" mindset.

    ©teokannan

  • goldenraes 2w

    Boundless

    I am not a product of my environment. I am loved in the heights of His sky, the depths of His sea, brighter than the moon, and beyond Saturn's rings, into the infinite cosmos and galaxies, and yet His love resides in me.
    ©goldenraes

  • brianna_m_salmon 2w

    #ghost @writersnetwork @mirakee #writersnetwork #growth #wod

    I believe that we all have battles that we have to fight. The longest one I have been fighting is the battle against the person who I was.
    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    The ghost of who I was,
    Lurks forever in the shadows,
    And with it darkness always follows,
    It has chased me to the saddest corners of my mind,
    And gives me not a single moment of rest when it comes,

    The ghost of who I was,
    Thinks I cannot rise,
    It laughs and jeers,
    When I say I will amount to something,
    It whispers and tells me,
    "You have and always will be nothing "

    The ghost of who I was,
    Is sad and insecure,
    But I won't always let it haunt me,
    I will find a way to move on,

    The ghost of who I was,
    Although sinister in some ways,
    Still wants me to be happy,
    Still wants me to rise.

    ©brianna_m_salmon

    Read More

    The Ghost Of Who I Was

    The ghost of who I was,
    Lurks forever in the shadows,
    And with it darkness always follows,
    It has chased me to the saddest corners of my mind,
    And gives me not a single moment of rest when it comes,

    ©brianna_m_salmon

  • wifey_suicide 2w

    There’s Monsters

    My whole life has been filled with greed
    My own family has stolen from me
    What do you do when everybody fiends
    A better life is what I need
    Nobody can hear your scream
    Even there’s monsters in my dreams
    Weed can only get me so far
    So I just spam and laugh at memes
    I know what I need
    But it’s a little far to fetch and claim
    I’m so drained
    Only a little I have claimed
    I’m too much of an angel to go and stain
    But too much of a root of an evil, that I still go insane
    There’s so much of me that is left unexplained
    Half the men I’ve messed with, I don’t remember their name


    There’s monsters beneath my bed
    They tell me secrets all the time
    Paranoid, mostly when I’m high
    Can’t afford therapy
    Only solution is to die
    Just like every other celebrity
    All else fails
    I know the remedy
    The devil, he possibly has me
    Crossing off my name
    To myself and I
    As I lay in my room, cry and cry
    Like I even know why
    Suicidal yes, but not when I’m dressed up
    So...

    Constantly always stressed
    Shoot me in the head
    Explode my brains out
    Like Kennedy
    Take your shot. Aim. fire.

    ©wifey_suicide

  • mindofminah 3w

    Recognition of the Process...

    I recall having grown up, yearning to be fulfilled with this insurmountable love.
    Curious as to where it’d stem from, I searched relentlessly.
    As above, so below; I recited tirelessly.
    False hope from certain outlets leaving me numb.
    I began to succumb to the belief that I wasn’t one to deserve it.
    My father hadn’t shown, nor given me any form of love, therefore why should anyone else?
    A lingering question, festering amongst my internal shelves.
    The very fibre of my existence grew cold... envious for said form of love.
    Each of the friends around me, having grown together, passed a boundary I hadn’t experienced.
    Of course, my mother relayed unconditional love to me; she’s my mom, she’s forced to inevitably.
    Or so I had thought.
    I hadn’t the ability to grasp and empathize at this age: to realize the genuinity of the love my mother had given me.
    My thoughts, emotions, and essentially my entire being, was heavily wrapped up in obtaining this “love”.
    Beginning to grow faulty.
    Friends resembling foes, I felt thoroughly alone.
    Thusly resulting in the damndest.
    Regarding and desperately searching for this “love” in boys, at way too young of an age.
    Mustering energy to engage myself to place attempts to fill a void, left behind by Troy.
    Piece by piece, I began to crumble.
    The further I chased, the deeper unto the dark I was lead.
    Becoming enveloped with insecurities, demons, fears; all swallowing my soul.
    Each false preposition of care and love, deriving from a physical desire.
    Fear continuing to transpire, I questioned the potentiality of whomever had the audacity to conspire these events.
    These kids were far too young to grasp what I was severely needing.
    As was I.
    I grew exceedingly confused; my turmoil immense.
    Coming to a point of sending nudes.
    Where a year later, I was raped by the same dude.
    He manipulated my fragile being.
    He diminished any fragment of light which remained for what I was searching for.
    Used me, as though I was an object fit for the making.
    Yet, you remained.
    A past lover who truly understood the love, which I had searched for.
    You caressed the carcass of my being... you helped me heal a bit.
    All having occurred when we were at the age to begin to fathom what was going on.
    I split this off.
    I was destined to fall once more.
    He was devilishly awaiting, ready at the foot of my rickety door.
    An occurrence which beat me down the most; while falsely building me up.
    A sociopath at its finest.
    Scaling my psyche with an axe, hacking away, inch by inch.
    Cycling through commotion, drug induced, psychological erosion.
    The aforementioned light within my being knew I had to leave.
    To the unknown.
    He was destroying me, prior to me even having a chance at success.
    I dove unto my family and friends, in distress; all I had left.
    He fought to stay.
    His tightly bound control commenced to wither, as did he.
    A fiasco of where to go.
    I avenged myself.
    Terrified, nimble and numb.
    Grasping my best friend's thumb, being lead to comfort, to refurbish.
    So I did.
    Weed became a companion, yet being cut after my dependence days, I felt revitalized.
    I sought after my truest forms of psychological damage.
    Introspected and released all.
    Beginning to tumble and fall.
    I was blessed with the profundity of strength.
    Understanding to head forth with courage; standing once again.
    Through examining my damage, inflicted by others, I realized that the love I was chasing, was awaiting to be enlightened within.
    Therefore my journey of becoming myself begins.
    Meditative experiences, divine occurrences.
    I began to ascend.
    My best friends having been there through the brunt of it all, became my kin.
    I made sisters throughout the country.
    My love for me, made me capable of loving life and others.
    Conclusively, yet not finality.
    You arose unto the equation.
    A divine knight in shining armour.
    We encountered one another beyond the physical.
    You showed me how it is to love me, you, us.
    Thank you for you.
    Shall this flame never wither.
    ©mindofminah

  • mercury_ 3w

    Moonlight vigil

    In dusk’s hallow face
    I found you embraced
    By the hands of another not torn
    As you shudder and hide from the moons pale light
    It is I who sees as you burn my eyes

    For not of one but was to you
    But a wretched crutch once adorned
    With the love and compassion
    of circumstantial passions
    Never did I think of wanting more

    Now as you bask in the nights romance with another wrapped around your claws
    Do I see no standard, not pain, nor pandered
    To the man who once writhed on all fours

    Not again to be bound
    by a scarlet crown
    Decorated in pain not seen
    For its now that I bask
    In the moons romance
    That I see that you only lead me askew
    You were there but were never once true


    ©mercury_

  • jadeivy 3w

    The sky will grow brighter once you've found where you belong.

    ©jadeivy

  • shekarleader 3w

    Time Surprises

    We loose people within no time .

    We loose opportunities during a time .

    We lose people whome we love as we don't spend time with them

    Time supress with a emotion called sucess that makes your time more valuable
    ©shekarleader

  • backstorypoetry 3w

    Curiosity can make you do great things.
    Always be ready to gain knowledge and experience
    Knowing something doesn't make you an expert
    It makes you arrogant.
    Quote by @believethat_1997

    Follow @backstory.poetry for more ❤️❤️

    #believe #believeinyourself #strength #situation #arrogant #attitude #ego #arrogance #growth #motivation #learn #opportunities #potential #competition #efforts #nurture #apathy #curious #curiosity #believeintheprocess #writersofbackstory

    Read More

    Never lose curiosity.
    It’s normally replaced with apathy or arrogance.
    Neither will nurture growth.
    -believethat_1997
    ©backstorypoetry

  • mercury_ 3w

    Mr nothing

    Slam me down and drag me through mud
    Liver’s shot, I’m coughing up blood
    Got nothing to lose and nothing to gain
    So I may as well just play this game

    Mr nothing comes through to be played by you
    I’ll be your crutch, you can never have few
    I’ll right all wrongs and hobble you along
    But when you move on fast I’ll have to be strong

    Drag me on down, cause I claim this crown
    Like a one way street in a deadbeat town
    I know I seem like shit but you’ve gotta admit
    That when you’re in a pinch I’ll pull you from it

    Mr nothing comes through to be played by you
    I’ll be your crutch, you can never have few
    I’ll right all wrongs and hobble you along
    But when you leave me hanging I’ll know who’s to blame

    I know my place in this damn rat race
    Never just me and you, no never just two
    I see myself as a mat to be scuffed
    I’d rather be used than be one less than two

    So Mr nothing is here all just for you
    Lie, cheat, beat my heart to the dirt till it’s black and blue
    Can’t lie to myself, there’s always somebody else
    But I’d rather be used than be one less than two

    Mr nothing comes through to be played by you
    I’ll be your crutch, you can never have few
    I’ll right all wrongs and hobble you to
    A better place safe and far away from me and you
    Because I’d rather be used than be one less than two

    ©mercury_