If I Were to Write a Book.

If I were to write a book it wouldn't be a novel, it wouldn't be an autobiography, and I don't think that it would be a book on how to do something. In fact, I think I would probably just combine all three, add some pictures, and add a little bit of my heart on every page.

For the past year or so I've been thinking about writing a book. I've saved photos and jotted down words and I even have a note saved on my phone titled "For My Book." I thought about what i would call it and how it would be laid out. I've thought about finally finishing and holding my book, knowing that it would be about as physical of an appearance of my heart that you could find without opening up my chest. I've noticed that when I am feeling sad or lonely, that is when I am the most creative and fluent. I've learned to not hate my moments of sadness, but to rejoice in them because if I were to write a book, then that is when I would get my best material.

If I wrote a book, I would not beg for it to be read but instead I would pay special attention to those that wanted to read it because they would be looking into my heart. I think it's important to know who you're being vulnerable with. On that note, I've decided today to be vulnerable with A Tiny Traveler's readers. Would that be okay with you all?

I wanted to share some excerpts of what I want to have in my book. I'd love feedback or ideas, or just to simply know that you read what my heart has felt. It's in the rough draft stages, and its more of a poetic quote format so there are just bits and pieces, but bits and pieces of my heart just the same.

You’re going to feel lost. It’s going to get messy. People won’t apologize and sometimes they’ll leave you alone to wonder why. Things don’t always go the way you want them to but that doesn’t mean you give up. Don’t you ever give up.

Life isn’t always perfect Instagram posts and funny tweets. It’s late nights wondering about the future and thinking about the past. It’s cups of coffee that’ve gone cold and getting lost because you never asked for directions. It’s making a friend and losing one. Seeing the good in people and hoping that the bad will change. Life is different for everyone, but the elements are the same. I just wish we would all stop trying to be better than one another and stop trying to “be right” and just live and lift one another up. Apologize, say I love you, give a hug, tell them they’re doing a good job. Life can get better if we just look around and see where we can help. Let your pretty words and perfect pictures fall to the wayside and reach out, grow with one another. Stop looking inward.

I want flowers and gardens for the rest of my life. Always growing, always living.

After heartache I am truly blessed because I’ve learned how to laugh harder, love deeper, and keep on exploring. Even in the sadness I find joy and even in the fear, there is peace.

Life is too short to waste on hatred or loneliness. Surround yourself with people. Laugh, love, sing. Let yourself just live.

Last night I had a dream we were in the library together and then we went for a walk and the only thing left when I woke up was your smell in my sheets. 

I hope one day you wake up and realize that it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. He isn’t in every thought anymore. The pain has dissipated and you’re on your way to far better things.

His mercies are new every morning. Every morning I breathe in His grace.

Let love surprise you. The coming and the going of it all. Let the experience change you and be better than you were before it left you. Be better now that you’ve seen love.

I can’t erase you, you’re like the ink in my skin telling stories of love and life and pain. I breathe you in, I breathe you in over and over again, like that stale cigarette smoke we once tried to handle. What clean lungs and pure hands we once hand, now soiled by the fragment of what we tried to tell ourselves was love. 

every so often I collapse into an unforgivable mess and I don’t know how to clean it all up so I just sit there staring at the wall wondering where my frustration and pain and chaos will send me and who I’ll hurt in the process.

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Now as you can see from the above pieces, some are really sad. Some are about heartache. Some are from my past. Thank you for reading and allowing me to be vulnerable with you all. I hope to grow as a writer and that "If I Were to Write a Book" can change to "When I Wrote a Book."