If every feeling comes like a wave, I try to decide what kind of coastline I’ll become.
SCHUYLERI’m thinking about how early the spring flower buds rise up from the grass; just barely on winter’s heels. How uncomfortable, how cold the soil must be, still half-frosted, when the roots start to take shape.
More Schuyler Quotes
-
-
How radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.
SCHUYLER -
Please come here, but not too close.
SCHUYLER -
We’ve never seen what a happy life could look like if we chose to spend it by ourselves – sharing our beautiful lives with friends, family members, the occasional crush, and lounging out in that quiet space alone as if an idyllic sunned beach.
SCHUYLER -
I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.
SCHUYLER -
Your anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels now.
SCHUYLER -
I allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.
SCHUYLER -
I will still live like a ghost in the mornings; walking, listening, pouring coffee to finish sometime by the afternoon, when I’ve had enough of watching the world and do all I can to live in it.
SCHUYLER -
I never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.
SCHUYLER -
I’d get lost in this green, ferns leaning against the trees, soil stuck to my feet, never dream of finding my way back again.
SCHUYLER -
I sit on the bare floor, leave my palms unturned, and watch relief pool into one hand, and uncertainty in the next. I will try not to lean more one way or another, but let them hold each other as company.
SCHUYLER -
I’m thinking about how early the spring flower buds rise up from the grass; just barely on winter’s heels. How uncomfortable, how cold the soil must be, still half-frosted, when the roots start to take shape.
SCHUYLER -
Take me back to the evergreen trees; to the sunlight through the leaves, the bending ferns and fronds. The pitter of the rain, the smooth rocks sleeping under moss. Take me back to the life I know before this body.
SCHUYLER -
Meet me where happiness doesn’t feel like a false spring.
SCHUYLER -
Yes, this life is mine, but more often I watch it take place and my hands feel too far away to touch it.
SCHUYLER -
Change is not a four letter curse word I once believed it to be.
SCHUYLER