She wants more than sweet kisses, tender candlelight caresses and dreamy thoughts that he could be “the one.”
She wants more than cuddling on the couch, fingers braided together, the sound of forced laughter from a romantic comedy filling her bored ears.
She wants more than believing that love could save her from herself.
This woman, she wants to live—to be astoundingly alive.
She wants to hold the moon in the palm of her hands, taste the melty setting sun on her tongue, dance bare-a** naked in booming thunderstorms and smell the budding beauty of blooming flowers with every bodacious cell of her body.
She wants to face loneliness, sit in emptiness and pirouette through each sticky layer of her pain—
Breaking apart, falling apart, letting it all go, and transforming into something exquisite,
She wants more than empty promises of forever.
She wants more than the subtle indifference that you call love.
She wants more than losing herself in a broken man’s eyes, squeezing herself into exhausting relationships that just don’t fit, no matter how hard she tries.
This woman, she doesn’t want to lose herself at all—oh no, she wants to find herself.
She wants to stick out her tongue, taste the fiercest mountain breezes, grab life by the balls, hinge open the ancient doors of her soul
And walk boldly inside.
She wants to live her purpose, stand proudly in her truth, make magic from her pain,
And alchemize her tears into a tender spring rain.
She wants more than a string of meaningless dates, peppered with yawn-worthy smalltalk.
She wants more than the sparkly, empty American dream of a perfect house and a perfect husband and being a perfect little wife.
She wants more than small town life, going to the same places and seeing the same faces, day in and day out, until the day she dies.
This woman, she wants to leap outside of her comfort zone—to stumble and fall, to make magnificent mistakes.
She wants to live dangerously—to tear open mysterious maps in her heart, howl with the wolves, soar with the falcons and see the wild, wonderful world with her thirsty eyes.
She wants to wear her soul on her sleeves,
Living every day
With goddamn stunning authenticity.
She will not die, without having lived fully.
She wants to spread her wings—no, she needs to spread her wings.
It’s not a possibility; it’s not a pretty thought. It’s what she’s meant to do.
She longs to benefit the world, to make numb, zombie hearts feel alive again.
She is born to do something extraordinary;
It’s written on her soul.
She will fall madly, hopelessly, irretrievably in love one day, but it sure as hell won’t be a love she settles for.
It will be a love that stirs her spirit; a love that’s just as magic as she is.
But in the meantime, she’s got more important sh*t to do.
She needs to follow the ancient whispers of her soul, because it’s the only way to be who she needs to be,
To be alive as she yearns to be.
A boring storybook romance will never fill her up; a traditional relationship will suffocate her heart.
She wants more.
She wants adventure spiked with stardust and alchemy.
She wants a dangerous life, a life stitched of soul, a life woven with dripping emerald threads of truth.
She owes it to herself
To stand up
All of it.
Have a #wonderfulwednesday