I am worthy and steely. I will conquer again. Truth as my armor; My sword is my pen. Tell me I can’t and I’ll show you I will surviving and thriving is my refined skill.
ALETHEIA LIOLATrust is an illusion. A systematically flawed word. A total forgery of a statement. Trust assumes infallibility – without errors, mistakes, or fuck ups.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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So what do we say to each other is the language of unspoken? The words are sweet; the space is bitter or is this just the them I’ve chosen.
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A part of me died on the battlefield and a part of me was born. Vulnerability shed like peeling skin. Trust from my core was torn. I was caught between a disassembled heart and a young and fearful mind. I made peace with these pieces as I fell apart with the courage that I made mine.
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You, a God I worshipped Your word was music to my ears Rose-tinted glasses: verdict You confirmed all my worst fears.
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Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say – Do I see, what is me? Or did his eyes lead me astray?
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I think we all long for someone we can be disgustingly honest with, and for them to love us anyway, and stay.
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You only meet someone, as deeply as they’ve met themselves. So do not allow their demons to condemn your soul to hell.
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You can find beauty in the darkest of places. Be the light, my love. Bring smiles to their faces.
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How many wounds can you convert to wisdom? How much pain to power can you permute and fathom? This is your story; rewrite how it’s written.
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Have faith in the fall. Sometimes life knocks us down so that we can discover what resides at the bottom of it all.
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Our interpretations reflect our imperfections. We will always read between the lines, but we decide what we choose to find.
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The child within; raised voice; fast heart; flinches. Flight response, with an attitude and broken hinges. The child within; tiptoes; eggshells. Heaven; hell. Still, she finds a quiet place, safe and tranquil; dwell.
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He always preferred the way my eyes looked after they had cried. I wish he knew how fine they looked once he had said goodbye.
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I compare myself to the leaves; dead, yet dancing in the breeze. Is it meant to hurt this much, falling from the trees?
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My bloody hands that hold on to faith. Learned that we grow with pain and not age.
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Trust is an illusion. A systematically flawed word. A total forgery of a statement. Trust assumes infallibility – without errors, mistakes, or fuck ups.
ALETHEIA LIOLA