To be understood is to be on part of the path to inclusivity.
RENEE STONELet go of the honey-sweet lies for the bittersweet truths.
More Renee Stone Quotes
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My words decay. I grow as they fray, unbecoming in the passage of time.
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It felt vulnerable to have people know my weaknesses, but there is so much strength from going back to the start and re-determining who you are.
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Staring into the abyss full of art – hoping for the return of a glimmer or a spark.
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Why is it that you have more practice describing weaknesses than strengths? It’s not your fault they never went to the lengths to teach you how to value your strengths.
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I write poems of the past; they reveal the reasons we didn’t last.
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I can assure you that I don’t wake up every day with a smile upon my face, and the distance from happiness in the morning isn’t set at a constant rate.
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And I saw forever in your eyes ’til the sunset started to dim your light. You told me you’d always hold me tight, but your warmth faded with the bright.
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I lost touch with the world around me – gone unnoticed by that which surrounds me, but I must find the presence of that which grounds me if I am to once again grasp onto everything I lost touch with.
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And so, my ‘What if’s’ became ‘What’s next?’
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I can’t take it all in or else I’ll grow cold when the heat already escapes my fingers and toes.
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Tell me I’m sun-kissed, but you burn my skin. And you already told me, I was paper thin.
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I don’t think anyone really gets my attachment to the little things. They call it insignificant and say that it is what it is. I think it all adds up to what we stand for. The little things add up to something meaningful and so does the complacency.
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It takes less for me to be impacted, for my state of being to worsen.
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I carry on knowing that when I deteriorate, my body will be a museum of all I can do and all that hindered me.
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I overwhelmingly write from sadness – in songs, in prose, in verse.
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When the silence fades and now sounds begin to bloom, I will grow to feel calm again. Healthily this time.
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I wonder why I’m so empathetic, why people perceive me to be so kind. I don’t want my heart to burn when there’s no one burning mine.
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If I could reverse time, I would spend more time looking into what ailed my loved ones – would have learned more about medical gaslighting.
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I spill words among pages so that I can’t say my thoughts are stuck in cages. Can’t say I didn’t let it out when I can say for sure I wrote it down.
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When you write me into your story, don’t set my end in stone. Feel free to let me go. I’d like to join your story, but remember I have my own.
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I grew up learning history about communities that would support their people (the idea that it takes a village), but all I see are so many people left on their own.
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I wish you could feel it when it’s dark at night, and I think of you when I pass the streetlights. But I know you feel the care without me being there.
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Let go of the honey-sweet lies for the bittersweet truths.
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They tell me summer is coming, and soon we’ll be dancing on the shore. Waiting for the moonlight to light me up amongst the starlight.
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They hit like waves, the memories of those old summer days. Memories you’d have thought to erase, but they crash ashore without haste.
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I hide myself in the galaxies of my creations – unsure of who I am beyond that.
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