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#growththroughpain
Practiced hope becomes the sermon we preach — Seeking justice, and trying to live peaceably; but Even peace has weight — bone, muscle, presence; And some days, I feel so lost in this present. Slipping into reflections, my mirror-skin cracks. When all the smiles I wear shift with the script — All these different moods, and a different cast. The broken hands of time can't be set in a cast, Yet we keep fishing for love, throwing out our Hearts, trembling hands; hoping it's a good cast For youthful exuberance — my crustacean lips Would sometimes sound cleverly selfish. Saying I want everything, but never speaking   The language of real and given effort. Still, everything you long to hold completely Asks for patience — love, answered prayers, Dreams and hopes —lest they drift from us, Being quiet as uncast lines on still water.
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Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 1:37 AM UTC
Cast Reflections
Sacrifices Painful, yet worthy. Exist in every aspect of life. As a child, some fun if health doesn't permit. As a teenager, sacrificing extracurriculars to fulfill parents' expectations. As an adult, leaving passions to drown in a stressful job in order to lift responsibilities. As a partner, sacrificing one’s own wishes to prioritize partner's likes and dislikes. As a parent, keeping personal luxuries aside to uplift children happily. Sacrifices— even though seem tough to do, give a sense of calm and content after seeing later results.
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Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 11:15 AM UTC
The Silent Strength of Sacrifices
Dust off my feelings — I could say      _I’m a little rusty when it comes to love,_ so please… forgive me. With all these needs and wants, I don’t want to _seem so needy — believe me!_ Sometimes I feel like _the memory of other people_, a name echoed in stories but never fully seen. I guess the fantasy of connection _never really ends_. I loan myself abundant confidence — but only in my heart, and even then, _only vaguely_. Behind the irises, tired eyes rest on the soft outlines of what _the mind believes it can finally see_. To participate in finding oneself… _it’s a gruesome search party._ My floodlights are filled with _a bit of drought_ — shining outward, but lacking what flows within. I’m strolling where I _never had the courage to step,_ everywhere I turn feels like _a new pressure._ I give out my heart, but don’t have much of a chest to hold it — _barely a ribcage to defend it._ Yet still — _there’s treasure in this tenderness,_ a worthwhile chest of purpose hidden in the pretending… of escaping real life. But here I am, _in real time_ — taking the _first step._
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Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 3:11 PM UTC
Dust and Discovery
"The deepest life lessons come from: mistakes, trust breaks and realizations."
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May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 1:03 AM UTC
Lessons Etched in Silence
Let’s sow the memories in the field. In the warm darkness, the past is not judged, and peace will come by avoiding the dazzling light. Scattered pain will bloom into flowers. All the unloved wounds will become daffodils. I will come to love those flowers.                                                        Hana.M
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Mar 31, 2025
Mar 31, 2025 at 1:56 AM UTC
My Flowers