“Hatred conquers the sea in which is growing thee them tiny pearls struggling a little trying to solve the final riddle.”

No matter where we are, what air we breathe or which stars we are under. Your eyes always take me to dream land; that inner child-like peace of mind. That I crave when you’re gone and afar and I only see you when in my sleep.

I can truly see myself in that light, the green iris of my eye like a jungle, full of life. And when snow covers the green, and my skin looses its color I crave that wilderness in my eye.

I don’t want to get down I want to get high. To stay high to fly high out of it.

I’m dehydrated, lacking the water you pour into me every time we drown in each other’s navy blue oceans.

Peace is when I am cuddled up in a snug wool blanket with a hot coffee in hand without worry in mind, so I can dream about red sunsets and the scent of warm, sun kissed bodies.

And, somehow that loved and loving girl can love anyone but herself.

Finding inner peace is a lost art for with every breath and sigh new stimuli comes and leaves us in a pool of racing thoughts and worries.

I want you here beside me, to make me feel like the only pearl you’d be looking for in the ocean.

Should you find the most convenient way of breathing, it will not make you feel more alive.

On the verge of what is there to see, a beautiful landscape of the sea washing away what we’re made off, looking back we drown we fall.

Do you recognize your voice, the one that’s coming from your own mouth, when words are forming on your tongue?

Curled up in a ball slowly shutting down as my body is being devoured by those ugly, fearsome monsters that have lived in my guts ever since I could remember.

So grand yet so small, so important yet so irrelevant, so beautiful yet so shallow, must thee live in illusion or does real life leave too much of a confusion?

And when I was looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that beneath these scars lies a woman, that is good that is kind, that I myself aspired to be.

Carrying the weight of my mistakes I burst into flames that hurt my skin.

A sense of calmness in this chaotic world somehow soothes me.

You know, I grew up in two American internment camps, and at that time I was very young.

Faith grows when it is planted in the fertile soil of God’s Word.

To bloom is to grow. To grow is to know the one who created x Died for my soul.

Christians are like manure: spread them out and they help everything grow better, but keep them in one big pile and they stink horribly.

Really good things take time to grow. Foundation is not built over night.

No one is born with self confidence. Self confidence is learned and earned with experience.

A man knows when he is growing old because he begins to look like his father.

Being a Christian is more than just an instantaneous conversion – it is a daily process whereby you grow to be more and more like Christ.