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A place for words that want out, but aren't poetry 

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Love?

On Valentine's day, the day when the world turns its mind to thoughts of love. Love. Such a small word, but means so much.   I love my partner. I love my son. I love my friends and extended family. Heck I even love my ex-boyfriend and chocolate. But do I love the same? No. I love them all with the same intensity, but not the same way.   Humans today get hung up and think only of the romantic meaning of the word love. We should never feel weird or ashamed to say that you lov

mogwhy

mogwhy

Holiday Time

Its so easy to fall out of the holiday spirit when you’re missing someone. the lights look dimmer. the wind is just a bit colder and you feel like nothing will ever be the same.   Nothing will BE the same. A piece of your heart is missing. Maybe it was opened up to make it bigger, to hold more love. Ask yourself, would they want you to hide from the world and cry? Or would they want you to remember how much they loved?   @droughtquake said something so beautiful in the Loung

mogwhy

mogwhy

Puddles and Friends

Someone gave me the advice “ don’t cross an ocean for someone who wouldn’t cross a puddle for you”.   Today I’ll paddle and you rest. Tomorrow we’ll swap. Together we’ll make down stream. I’ll hold my hand out, the choice is yours if we dance in the rain and splash in the puddles.    Love and life are not about what you get but what you give. Unless it endangers your life, cross puddles. Climb mountains, cross oceans, open doors. Love people. Love unconditionally

mogwhy

mogwhy

Thankfully

We, as humans, find it easy to find reasons to complain and criticize. It takes more effort to find reasons to be thankful. I’m thankful for all the normal things people talk about like a place to live. Food to eat.    I’m Thankful for all my friends. The past friends, who come back into my life. New friends, who I haven’t met yet. Present friends, who keep me sane. Friends in “real” life, and those I only know through the internet. And I’m thankful for the friends I’ve lost. The ones

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mogwhy

Sticks

I’m Handing out Sticks Depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see good in yourself, and you don’t have any hope. Your thinking about suicide, you have a plan; you just need a reason not to do it.    But   you’ve come over to me, and said, “HEY! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don’t care if it’s a stick! Give me a

mogwhy

mogwhy

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