carolyn rose

He loved me like a child and hurt me like a man and yet he still wonders why I couldn’t stay with him. He didn’t understand that the highs were anthills and the lows were valleys, that I measured laughter in inches and heartbreak in miles. He didn’t understand that I couldn’t pay his million-dollar hurts when all he gave me were pennies.

I don’t intend to speak to him again, but if I did, I would tell him that I could never get better when all he gave me to fix up scars were bandaids. I would tell him that no matter how much he thought we lived at two extremes with no in between, he was never anything but mediocre at his best and hell at his worst. He wasn’t a rose with thorns or stars in darkness but a storm cloud descending and shrinking up all the blue.

I would say to him, you never made me smile for more than a minute and never made me cry for less than a day. How could I forgive you when your apologies were so much shorter than your excuses? How could I be big enough to see the best in you when all you wanted was to make me smaller?

One day I’ll write him a letter and all it will say is this: you planted a seed and gave it two days to grow before you dried up the rain and covered up the sun.

I’ve decided to grow my gardens elsewhere.

—  c.w.it all seems simple now 
We have to make the first move ourselves rather than expecting it to come from the phenomenal world or from other people. If we are meditating at home and we happen to live in the middle of the High Street, we cannot stop the traffic just because we want peace and quiet. But we can stop ourselves, we can accept the noise. The noise also contains silence. We must put ourselves into it and expect nothing from outside, just as Buddha did. And we must accept whatever situation arises.
—  Chogyam Trungpa, Carolyn Rose Gimian