Thank you for your faithfulness but I don’t cry, Okay?!
Thank you for all the pains that came my way to break the jar of clay to show me who I really am inside. I learnt that those pains were just like waves. They’re fleeting away while I remain. I remain, I stand still, because of your faithfulness.
thank you for your faithfulness but I don’t cry, Okay?!
I learnt that emotions make up only 14,3% of passion and that I have wasted the last ten (10) years pursuing my passion with such damn percentage.
When I thought it was an imperfect latte art, it seemed to me as a broken piece.
When I thought it was an imperfect latte art and I loved it nonetheless, I now see it as a flower that has not been utterly bloomed yet. I just love it.
I know that I know that I know, every art is made of a person’s being. Your art shows who you are. Like wise, mine. My latte arts show how uncommon I am amongst other Baristas because I can never make straight line.
I love me. I love my imperfection and I think that is what makes me perfect. I have scars, muscles and many more things that make me uncommon amongst other women. I struggled at first to accept myself that way. But it was a good struggle because it built in me such confidence and self esteem that I feel unbreakable, through, of course some painful experiences.
I love me. I love my imperfection and no thing and no one could add any more or less of such love of being me.
Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it’ll shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
There it is, the cup of golden beverage called espresso. Every morning that I wake up for it is every morning that I wake up for what I am passionate about. Because, again, if I don’t do that, I don’t do life.
Ever happened in life. Very long time ago. I was taught to follow my passion. Now the very ones who told me to follow my passion are the ones who against it, making passion such a source of pain. But if that what it takes to follow my passion, I’ll take it. Because if I don’t do that, I don’t do life.
I literally took a long trip by bus for fifthy hours. I intentionally did that to figure out something that bothered me from within.
Along the way, my emotions fluctuated as I reflected on my past, present and future. They went up and down, up and down. But they always came back to one thing that I didn’t know what it is.
No, not that I didn’t know what it is. I always know what it is. It’s just hurting me so bad that i pretended as if I didn’t know what it is.
Passion that is. It is irrestistible. It is painful. It is uncomforable. But if I don’t do that, I don’t do life.