Because a soul writer understands, and if she is a woman even more so.
Because if she is a writer it is just plain clear when when something is said to someone but the scope is to have someone else listening. She knows the art of the unsaid-said. She understands the motions of the soul and the actions they trigger. She understands what is summoned by bliss, what by confusion, what by boredom, what by the restlessness of mind, and on and on.
She does understand that all and being a woman she understands the subtleties, is touched by kindness, or hurt by rudeness. She has her heart suffer more than others for cheap behaviours, or those aimed at cause emotional pain, and not just to her, but to anyone.
It is a superpower, and with it comes also the downsides.
Because when you have a sense that is so acutely developed, so sharp, so oversensitive, then you have to be careful, you know how you can be overwhelmed.
It is like seeing emotions multiplied, one, two, ten, one hundred times. Yes, you can see the little things, and you appreciate them as others can not. At the same time though, the bad, the dark, the evil done with the purpose of hurting, those to hurt one, two, ten, one hundred times more.
Things may be done for which you are told “oooh it was nothing. Oooh well, forget it, it was just a moment”. To you it is difficult though, and you know it is difficult for others to understand why it is something your litlte sensitive mind cant grasp.
Should we put a threshold to how much we feel then?
Should we see things through such “filters”?
But then where do you put it, and why? What will we be missing?
No, me is me.
Oversensitive, and i am fine with it
(most of the times).
Those like me
When I love, when I care, when someone is in my heart I am curious, I get curious, I am both constantly thirsty and peacefully confident.
I am curious about her, about anything hers, just anything.
Her morning breath, her dreams, her thoughts, anything she does, her pains, sorrows, smiles, boring routine. Before anyone else’s activity my heart is curious about hers, naturally before.
It is not restlessness it is rather thirst, thirst for something whose mere existence is, in whatever way, enough to quench this thirst, and trigger more, more passion, love, nearness, joy. Just the thought of it all suffices, but the thirst exists. I am not lost if I don’t satisfy these needs, but I am better, stronger, and feel happier, with pursuing them. They do add, they do add to my life, and spirit.
Together with this there is also the desire to have her feel it. To have her feel that I am curious of anything hers and have her feel she comes first. To have her know it. The fact that she knows it already is not a good reason for not proving it, for not showing it. Not a sufficient reason to not celebrate it, and celebrate her every little thing, valuing each of them and letting her know it. There is no need of big things, sometimes no need to say a thing, still, it is important to let her feel it and from my side to proof it to her, as unnecessary as it is. And I know it is an unnecessary necessity for her too, I’d go further, I’d go as far to say that it is so for everyone. in a relationship. In my world, it is so, in my too extreme mind, it is so and it has to be so. Who is in my heart does not need to say a thing, every one who is truly loved deserve to feel it, to feel that way. Every loving heart deserves it, and no loving one should need to ask for it, it makes me feel I would have failed, if I realise I dont deliver that. The way I am is this, it’s like that, for those like me, I couldn’t do without having this push, this curiosity, it would mean she’s not the one I have in my heart, because having love for someone means having that, doing that.
I’m just like that.
More than that, as crazy as I am, I think it is the same for everyone (in a special personal way), then, I’m just crazier than others, and that makes me say it out loud (needing to, maybe), and writing it down.
In my Life
In my Life I Love.
In my Life I work.
In my Life I study.
In my Life I listen.
In my Life, I don’t follow money, because through my life, I found out that’s not something making me happier, or giving me something. So I get what I need, for a decent, good, living, and that is perfect with me.
In my Life I try to do the things that fill me the most. I discovered that in doing so I not only realise myself, but I am also creating more happiness around me.
In my life there are things/activities that touches me, pull me, cradle me, connects me to things which are totally disconnected with those activities and still they trigger something. They are many, and many more I hope to find, but I try being dedicated and not scattered.
In my life there are choices, one cannot follow every interesting thing, my very personal belief is that through dedication we grow, through focus. It is a sort of self discipline, and it needs our attention.
In my Life, I love living.
Maybe I am getting older, but now there are times I shiver and I have goosebumps at the thought of what a big thing “life” and “love” are.
In my Life I dream.
I dream of things to achieve, feet on the ground about what is possible and what not but I do dream. We need that, I need that. I’d be much less if I didn’t dream and I would be vacuum if I had no goals.
In my life I learn.
i learn about myself, and possibly I wish to be able to learn from others, and I try to be open to that. There is no day in which I do not learn, so I pray to always stay humble enough to know that there is always more, there is always more and it is worth learning from everything.
Yes, maybe I am getting older, but I enjoy my every wrinkle
Love Always ❤
♡ 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕎𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 ♡
“Strong women do this, strong women do that, a strong woman don’t, a strong woman do …”.
All over the places we are told how a strong woman is the one who doesn’t beg, doesn’t ask, doesn’t stay where she’s not explicitly wanted and requested to please be. Or other things like this and that.
We are told how a strong woman should pretend to be this or that, how she should turn her shoulders in case this is not happening. Oh, no, I do not literally agree to that. It leaves out so much. A strong woman is simply herself, that is the truth.
A strong woman is the one who doesn’t care about being a strong woman, THAT is the truth. A strong person is the one who is herself, that is being strong, that is respecting ourselves and the others.
I am strong when I beg and I am silent, as much as when I demand to be listened. Not one bit less.
Am I not strong when I stay somewhere, even knowing that me giving my time and dedication is not requested and eventually will get to nowhere if not into a gift that may be used or not?
Isn’t that a true sign of how strong and self confident I am?
Isn’t a woman strong when she allows herself to hope for the impossible When she believes in dreams and pursue them, with focus and dedication?
Isn’t she the strongest being when that will make her fall and then she rises again to dream again and again?
How is it that society has pushed us to be slaves to a completely utilitarian way of thinking?
How is it that more and more it is “do ut des” and aligning to a way of thinking and behaving that determines and create a categorisation between who is “strong” and who is “weak”.
To drive people into seeing as stronger the one who “takes” as compared to the one who “gives” is wrong. And how is it that we allow these cages and false boundaries to decide what we are worth to achieve?
Such way of thinking is blind, superficial, it leaves out the core of of self affirmation, it does not recognise the strength of hearts in its entirety, cutting out half of it.
Take this writing, for example. Maybe this has no meaning to exist, maybe it will be read by none, or legions, so what? It can be considered small shitty collection of thoughts by a little woman, “weak maybe” because it has no reason to exist and will lead to nothing.
Well, the fact is: I am ME, and I do it anyway and the fact that maybe a part of me even hopes that someone smiles and feel motivated thinking alike makes me feel ok, it makes me feel everything but not a weakie. Take this writing, I write it because I feel like writing it, because I believe in these things, and if no one ever read it but it still stays written, well, that is one more reason why I am strong, or why I am “me”, while being a simple “dreamergirl” at the same time.
Strong women are the ones that stay, IF they WANT, till they want, and then go. They might stay till they get close to breaking, if they want, or till they feel it is enough, or not a minute. They can stay and then maybe regret they stayed too long, but proud they did their best.
Strong women don’t beg? Wrong.
They beg too, IF they WISH, if they find it worth.
They do it because they are strong, and their begging is a gift. Strong woman are the ones who are themselves, full stop.
Dominant, submissive, begging, staying, going, whatever. They are any way they want and feel. Respectfully, with awareness, and heart. Most of all, strong women do not give a damn about being categorised as strong women.
I Stay, I beg, I speak, I write, I affirm, I make mistakes, I face them, I don’t escape, I smile, I kneel, I love, I laugh, and more.
More than anything else, I am me.
♡ 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕎𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 ♡
“Strong women do this, strong women do that.
A strong woman don’t, a strong woman do …”.
All over the places we are told how a strong woman is the one who doesn’t beg, doesn’t ask, doesn’t stay where she’s not explicitly wanted and requested to please be.
We are told how a strong woman should pretend to be this or that, how she should turn her shoulders in case this is not happening. Oh, no, I do not literally agree to that. It leaves out so much. A strong woman is simply herself, that is the truth.
A strong woman is the one
who doesn’t care about being a strong woman,
THAT is the truth.
I am strong when I beg and I am silent, as much as when I demand to be listened.
Am I not strong when I stay somewhere, even knowing that me giving my time and dedication is not requested and eventually will get to nowhere if not into a gift that may be used or not?
Isn’t that a true sign of how strong and self confident I am?
Isn’t a woman strong when she allows herself to hope for the impossible?
Isn’t she the strongest being when that will make her fall and then rise again to dream again and again?
How is it that society has pushed us to be slaves to a completely utilitarian way of thinking? How is it that more and more it is “do ut des” and aligning to a way of thinking and behaving that determines and create a categorisation between who is “strong” and who is “weak”. To drive people into seeing as stronger the one who “takes” as compared to the one who “gives” is wrong.
Such way of thinking is blind, superficial, it leaves out the core of of self affirmation, it does not recognise the strength of hearts in its entirety, cutting out half of it.
Take this writing, for example. Maybe this has no meaning to exist, maybe it will be read by none, or it can be considered small shitty collection of thoughts of a little woman, “weak maybe” because it has no reason to exist and will lead to nothing.
Well, the fact is: I am ME, and I do it anyway and the fact that maybe a part of me even hopes that someone smiles and feel motivated thinking alike makes me feel ok, it makes me feel everything but not a weakie. Take this writing, I write it because I feel like writing it, because I think these things, and if no one ever read it but it still stays written, well, that is one more reason why I am strong, while being a simple “dreamergirl” at the same time.
Strong women are the ones that stay, IF they WANT, till they want, and then go. They might stay till they get close to breaking, if they want, or till they feel it is enough, or not a minute. They can stay and then maybe regret they stayed too long, but proud they did their best.
Strong women don’t beg? Wrong.
They beg too, IF they WISH and find it worth.
They do it because they are strong, and their begging is a gift.
Strong woman are the ones who are themselves, full stop.
Dominant, submissive, begging, staying, going, whatever. They are any way they want and feel. Respectfully, with awareness, and heart. Most of all, strong women do not give a damn about being categorised as strong women.
I Stay, I beg, I speak, I write, I affirm, I make mistakes, I face them, I don’t escape, I smile, I kneel, I love, I laugh, and more.
On Silence.
Because silence speaks loud only for those having something to say.
Silence: it is venerated the silence, revered, worshipped. Much has been written about silence, poems have been composed, quotes about it can be found through all the human eras. Truths about all aspects of silence have been expressed, underlying the virtues of silence, the force of silence, the “voice” of silence. You can read phrases telling how a silence could scream louder than one thousand words, and more …
Oooh i know all this, I understand all these things, I have them running in my veins, I chew them, I breath them, I feel them, I taste them, I even could make use of them.
I know how a silence from me could transmit the weight of my heart, or eventually how silence could be used as a blade, or rather to heal and express the strongest nearness of soul. I know how my silence could bring me close to someone living within myself or bring me to someone can be reached only through it: “silence”.
I know how a silence can calm me, soothe me, or remove the useless trappings from my life, built over simple values. I know how silence connects me to what is the really essential, the core. Of all this I am aware.
I natheless know more. I know this.
Without its nemesis, “communication”, silence would lose all its strength.
I know that if my soul would not speak and I would not say all I say, then silences would never have the power they are and I know that their power increase at par with the depth of what is said.
I know that for silence to be powerful we must be able to face and stare into each other’s eyes and tear our heart out of our mouth. THEN being silent will be the powerful weapon it can be. This is one more reason to never let things unspoken. Never avoid doing it for bad and good things for the hurtful and also for those little beautiful things which are the daisies in the field of life. Those must be spoked too, so that their absence will become as powerful as they deserve. All this needs chanted and not silenced. This do give meaning to silence. I know that we should praise both silence and its nemesis, this I know. Without it the silence will “stop speaking”. Without it, staring into each other’s eyes will be just “optics”, and not that power exchange that it has to be.
For my silences to speak they do need my words
For our words to weight they need our silences
For my silence to speak they need our words
For words to weight they need our silence
The yin and the yang.
Balancing.
Completing.
As for me and silence: never fear for me when I do speak.
Never fear me being lost when drops of my heart do rain, pouring like crazy, exploding in blasts of flames from a dark furious sky.
Fear rather if this would not happen, fear my silence, as I was not done for it.
I do know silence and I do respect it, I worship it and under the strength of his spell I had already been a captive.
Silence must be watered
with all the love that its noisy nemesis is capable of,
if not it will be just “void”.
As for me. I deeply believe that what should be feared it is THAT type of silence, because that silence would make all the other silences, powerless.
Knowing me 101
No, I am not snob, I am picky, and not by my choice.
I just end up discovering that for some things I am like that. The fact is that I end smiling more comfortably with people having something to say, challenging me but in a good way, people able to look into my eyes with no fear. People having no fear to offend me by saying what they think, and thus showing me respect, or to stay silent when there is nothing to say, without needing to babble about nothing.
I just end up feeling more comfortable with people like that, and my smile or laughter blossom in an easier fashion in their company. It is sort of normal survival, evolution. It is natural selection. I smiled an inner smile when I realised that it is for me what I call “survival of the kindest”.
So no, I am not snob, I just live my breaths, my thoughts, my dreams, I do share and communicate them and this ends up in a flow that brings me naturally into being maybe a bit selective. To protect and value what for me is important. I actually think that everyone does it.
I do value and keep precious my friends and those persons, or “things”, that grow with me. It’s that simple. Over the years I have crossed the path of persons who feels they should belong to a whatever flow, just to be part of something. More than gross, I find that sad. By doing so they often end up having to push in order to fit into clothes that do not fit them. Everyone of us should live our own flow. Everyone of us do have a place, and we have to dig inside ourselves to discover what it is and make it blossom.
It can take a lot of strength to do so. It takes/took determination and strength to me. It is something I am proud though, or at least I can claim it takes strength, so I can smile and giggle in thinking I have an excuse for being slightly “picky”
Kitty Michele …. Smiling
I paint
“I paint flowers, so they will not die”.
Those are words by “Frida Kahlo”. I love her works. She was such a WOMAN, an example, a force of nature, an example of dedication, passion, fire, believing in pursuing your ideas and dreams, and more than that.
I do paint too, I do paint with words, I do paint with how I live, I think the whole of us do paint. I do not have the skills to create beautiful paintings in the normal sense. Yet I feel I do paint too, everyone of us do it. We do paint with every action we take, every breath we take. Every word we say is a brushstroke. Then, in my case I do happen to paint … with words, as I am doing now. Maybe it is an act of exhibitionism, or maybe a need, or maybe none of the above, but is it important? Life, living and breathing it, that is the important thing, in the end.
With words I do paint my love, its sacred lust too. I do paint the holy power of sensuality, its delicacies and its fury. I do paint my dreams and my fears, my hopes and my disappointment, my rage and the tearing tenderness that needs expressed even when I’d wish it caged and hate it to exist.
I do not paint all this because to preserve it from death, I do not fear that. Nothing of this will ever die, it will all survive, in me survives the heritage of all the people who touched my life, making me who I am, so I think all of the amazing, exploding, screaming feelings and sensations I got in me, they will survive, whether I paint them or not. But I do.
Then why do I paint them ?
Why do we paint them ?
Is it because I think I am able ?
Is it because I think I am particularly good ?
Is it ego ?
Why do some people paint openly, while others do it within?
I do not know. The truth is: I humbly and stupidly do not know.
I know I cannot go without doing it, though.
I know my brushstrokes are sometimes naif, primitive. I know they are irregular, sometimes incomprehensible, imprecise. I know sometimes they cut like blades, other times they are caresses, They can be luminous, dark, dim and way too often I do feel them not be enough to depict what I feel.
This is all I know.
I do not paint because otherwise these flowers will die.
They will not.
I do paint because doing that is part of me.
Deeply felt.
Kitty
Kitty Michelle's Universe 