We are like two crazy people, playing with the fire of passion.
There’s this constant tug of war, the teasing whenever time allows, and somehow, in those moments, we live in a world of our own.
The restrictions and the lines are vividly drawn. We know exactly where they are. And yet, within our words and the moments we share, there is a certain freedom.
Maybe it’s simply an acknowledgement and acceptance of what is, what could have been, and what should never be.
Still, here we are—two crazy people, playing with fire.
To love is to breathe—to feel freely, while respecting the boundaries that have been drawn.❤️
Yesterday made me realize just how much your friendship means to me.
With you, I can truly be myself, yet I’m afraid of being swept away. I want to face things on my own, but knowing you’re always there behind me gives me strength.
BFF, if I could have only one friend in this world, I’d wish for it to be you.
Always remember that it is okey that at times someone will pat our shoulders and tells us that you are doing okey .
The Hero
In every story, there is a hero. She is the center of the tale, seemingly invincible, as if nothing could ever hurt her. But behind that brave facade lies a person who is deeply tired, silently gasping for breath. Her heart has been shattered into pieces countless times. Yet, just like in the movies, she always rises, fights, and pushes on until she claims victory. She takes care of everyone but herself.
Breathe take in the peace that the day gives.
Cub in us
My dear hero, it is okay to be shattered at times, to take off the mask of bravery, and to be courageously vulnerable.
It is okay to be tired, to ask for help, and to accept a lending hand.
Sometimes, my dear hero, it is perfectly fine to let someone else take care of you.
Allow the cub within us to reign every once in a while, within this lion heart of ours.
You will always radiate the light of hope and kindness
Yes, I’ve arrived at that phase of life. My knees? Oh, they’ve made a dramatic exit, thanks to arthritis. The cartilage in both knees is gone, which means my favorite activities have vanished too—goodbye, running and yoga! And let me tell you, that goodbye hurt more than my joints.
Meanwhile, my hormones are acting like a fireworks display, constantly going off without warning. This means I can go from weeping over a commercial to snapping at someone for breathing wrong—all in the same hour. And let’s not even get started on the sugar cravings, courtesy of glucose levels playing hopscotch every day. My belly fat? It’s taken on a life of its own, and I swear it’s plotting something.
Here comes the vicious cycle: “I can’t exercise because my joints hurt, which means I gain weight, which makes my joints hurt even more.” Exhausting, right? Well, one day I decided: Enough. There has to be more to menopause than this chaos. I wanted the 51-year-old version of me to be healthier, stronger, and maybe even a little fiercer.
So, what did I do? I became a cougar 浪. Enter: the most handsome coach in the world. Picture this: piercing blue eyes, full of concern (or maybe just mild amusement). Our first conversation went something like this:
Coach (gazing at me, probably wondering if I’m serious): “What do you want to happen with your body?”
Me: “Uhm, well, I don’t want to be Barbie… but I’d love to be fit, wrangle this midline before it gives me a cardiac arrest, and be able to jog at 70.”
Now, my coach doesn’t mess around. He pushes me to break my limits but always respects my limitations. He doesn’t care that I’m 51. “The body follows where the mind leads,” he says, which sounds so inspiring until you’re gasping for air after 20 squats.
So here I am, a month in, lifting weights—30 kg, 6 sets of 3 reps, deadlifts, and squats. My knees are getting stronger, and I can almost hear them whispering, “Thank you.” My coach, still the ruthless gentleman, has slowly reintroduced the treadmill into my life, though I keep begging him to let me run on real terrain. His answer: “Soon. Not yet. Patience.”
Menopause and aging may throw curveballs, but they don’t have to steal the things we love. Two months from now, I’ll be back to my morning yoga or jogging short distances—mark my words.
This is healing. I love me, and that means I’m going to take care of me.
Coach and I call this “wonder woman”project . I always wonder ..😄😄😄
There was once a friendship I knew—sweet, innocent, and pure. A friend who would spoil me by sharing even the little he had. He was a brother, a confidant, and my protector.
We grew up, life led us down different paths, and though we tried to stay connected, somewhere along the way, we lost touch.
There is a friendship I deeply miss, a friend I still long for. I remember how he would give so freely, even when he had so little.
I wish I could be that same, clingy, little sister-friend who would let him break through my walls again. I wish I could…
Not so long ago, I encountered Love—beautiful, sweet, and naïve. I wanted to embrace Love, but I hesitated, afraid of its fragility, its tenderness.
Years have passed, and once again, we find ourselves at a crossroads. My heart quickens, skipping a beat or two. Love looks different now, more mature, with stories etched in the lines of its face, stories of the Love we once knew.We tried to hold on, but Love had its own path to follow, new priorities to set.
Love is now here and there, sometimes lingering at the edge of a memory, smiling softly. Love is the wet lick of a furry friend on your cheek, a fleeting warmth that catches you by surprise. It’s the sun, the wind, and sometimes, the storm that rages within.
Love never truly ends; it simply changes, evolves, finding new ways to touch our lives.
A gift by a friend who see me through my soul , my being ..
There are moments that we keep close in our hearts . Moments that sparks of joy to our souls and bring a smile to our lips . .. These moments are not huge they are just pulses of life that we sometimes take for granted . A warm hug , a cake and good company.
The pulses of life
Cherish ,them took a portrait of that moment.
Portraits are the mirror of us in the eyes of those who loves us and despise us . Portraits reflects a moment in time. It brings us back to a nostalgic road of joy and at times path of lessons that have been resulted from broken relationships.
Broken relationships are not necessarily be a bad thing or a bad experience … it is a journey of growth and self development as we better ourselves.We change and we grow apart. I am thankful for the lessons for those who broke me ..For it is to them that I grow .. It’s with them that I become a better version of meyself.
As I walk in this path of cherished moments ,I will always take portraits of special moments.
I ran entering your door your eyes lit up and a faint smile broke your lips . I came near whispering to your ears “did you miss me this much that you have managed to go to the next level ?” You smile and nod faintly. “I miss you , you are my angel “ I sat beside you, cut your nails washed your hands, and told you stories that you used to love hearing from me. Every now amd then your eyes would open wide amd you smile .
Years ago I met death with resenment , I questioned him swore at him on why taking my brother away .. this time I meet death again , he is around lurking, waiting . This time death comes to me with compassion , this time death make me understand that loving is letting go , that loving is not allowing the person that matters suffer . Death showed me a new face. I know you are just standing at the corner, waiting for everyone to be ready .. I am ready , I will miss a Matriarch as she will take her rest but at the same time relieve that finally she can sleep without pain ..
Before the sun will totally stop from shining ..I will keep on making juice, wash your hands and whisper words that would make you smile .. I am your angel but one day you will be mine ..
To the woman that you are .. I will always remember you and the moments we were together
jee426 