Ghostly Stones - Monochromes In A Colourful Mind

"Back in My Day..."; Jealousy of Your Child's Privilege (24/08/24) By Jude Ní Riain

It's a common thing for them to say,

"Oh well, back in my day..."

As they rattle on about their past,

Saying thinks in hopes you act a ghast.

And by itself this would be grand.

If they didn't say it after you show your hand.

After you tell them of your day, joys or pain

On your parade they have to rain.

"At least your life isnt like before,

You see, now that life was a chore.

Compared to us you get to have life in ease

And get to do whatever you please."

This lack of sympathy makes them seem jealous.

Jealous of their child's privileges I guess.

I don't get why they aren't proud

Of the life for their child that they've allowed.

i grew up thinking love had to be dramatic.

that it needed to feel like chaos—

a rush of adrenaline,

complicated, spontaneous, a constant guessing game.

and sure, love can be like that.

it can burn hot and fast.

it can throw you into the sky

and drop you just as quickly.

but love can also be secure.

reassuring.

constant.

and i think that kind of love is beautiful.

the kind where someone chooses you,

not because you’re hard to get

or because there’s tension and mystery,

but simply because they see you

and they want you.

no questions.

no confusion.

no waking up and wondering where you stand.

just—

you and them.

side by side.

quietly, naturally.

you know they’ll be there tomorrow.

and the day after that.

and in a week, a month, a year.

and suddenly, you’re celebrating your tenth anniversary,

realizing love didn’t need to be loud to be extraordinary.

i’m tired of dramatic love.

i don’t want to burn.

i want to be held.

i want love that is quiet.

predictable.

safe.

because peace is not the absence of love—

it’s what love is supposed to bring.

i think some of you dont like narratives or stories or characters i think you just like fanfiction tropes

when i was a kid, my father would always say that optimism is just a lack of information. i was optimistic to spite him. lately i've been feeling like he was actually right. but you know what? he wasn't.

he made it look like being oprimistic was easier, because it meant you didn't bother to see the whole picture. in reality, being optimistic requires strength. it requires courage to have hope even in the darkest times

i am not optimistic because i have no reason to be pessimistic. i am optimistic because i am actively choosing to be. to see that future can be bright. to find hope.

Not Enough to Save You

god loves you, they say, in whispers soft and light,

but love, it seems, is distant in the night.

a hand extended, just out of reach,

a promise held but never to beseech.

he watches close, with eyes like distant stars,

but you bear the burden of your scars.

you cry for mercy, hope for grace,

yet stand alone in this empty space.

the love they preach, a tether thin,

won't pull you out from where you've been.

you're left to walk the roads you pave,

god loves you—just not enough to save.

so tread the world with weary feet,

the love you seek, you may not meet.

for heaven waits beyond the sky,

but here on earth, you're left to try.

- me.

Hope wins every time the sun peaks over the horizon after a long dark night, it softens the day and baths the ground, it warms the air and we breath easier and maybe our souls uncurl a little from that protective crouch we've grown used to, maybe we let our limbs loosen, maybe we let hope sink into our skin, maybe we let it melt our misery from within.

Late nights and Would you rathers