poetic.

poetic.

adjective. written in verse. having an imaginative style of expression

——————————————

i’m from the blood, sweat, and tears…

by philip blystone

i’m from the big hill where my house lies

from the running alone at night workouts.

i’m from the early mornings

from sleeping so little to conquer my goals.

i’m from the loving family that always has my back

from the gym that makes my muscles weak and my body cry.

i’m from the long days and nights focusing to make my family proud

from to taking care of grandparents

and listening to their amazing stories.

i’m from the same house since birth

from the long days and nights.

i’m from the small group of friends

from the nights skipping parties

just to get ahead.

i’m from the doubts everyone had of me

from playing in France now

to giving back.

i’m from the hard times of giving up and breaking down

from conquering my fears and becoming stronger by the day

“work hard in silence, and let your success be your noise” 
that's what they say.

i’m from these experiences a person who won’t stop till he reaches the top

from proving everyone wrong and making myself the best I can become

don’t stop, never give up, learn from your mistakes, and smile

“let your light shine” 
that’s what my grandma would say.

i love you.

[philip]

warrior.

warrior.

noun. a person engaged or experienced in warfare;

a person engaged in some struggle or conflict

——————————————

before: i was content, i was unafraid, i thought i had it all together.

after: i was fearful, i was ashamed, i was worthless.

now: i am strong, i am empowered, i am worthy. 

in the summer of 2016 i thought i had it all together. i knew exactly where i was going, what i was going to do, and who i was going to be with. i had been dating the same man for several years, i was in school studying something i loved, and i had great friends by my side to support me and help me overcome any obstacle in my way. my life was good, and i didn’t think anything would ever alter that. i was wrong. 

going into the fall of that year, i fell into a bit of a depression, and started to question everything i was close to, and everything i once loved. the life that i had created for myself suddenly seemed uninteresting. i didn’t know where i was going. i reached out to many people for guidance, but couldn’t shake the feeling that i wasn’t headed where i was supposed to be. 

during that time, things began to change with the man i was with. for the sake of this story and my choice of being anonymous, i will call him craig. in the beginning years of our relationship, craig and i were inseparable. we loved hard, and we were crazy about each other. as we settled into our relationship things began to change. that same passion and obsession with each other turned to a form of comfortability and insignificance that i hated. his friends and work became more important than me; and while i desired to save our relationship, my efforts only led him further away. we agreed to take a break and go our separate ways. 

during this break, i met brandon*. brandon pursued in me in a way i had never felt pursued. he took interests in my interests and gave me a confidence that made me believe i could do anything. i felt as though we connected in a way i had never connected with anyone. in that moment, i made the choice to pursue him back.

since i had only been with one man in my younger years, i had also only been fully intimate with one man. sex was something i held high and mighty. craig and i had waited three years to share it. we thought if we didn’t, we might ruin our relationship. so when we finally let our guards down and shared it with each other, it was beautiful. i felt like it had made our love magical. sex was my view of physical love, and that’s the way i thought that it would stay forever. 

my view of sex was one of the first things i had mentioned when i began to pursue brandon. he told me he admired it, and felt the same way. i was so elated to have found another man who saw it the way i did. then things began to change. 

one night, a friend of mine and i went out for drinks. we danced, we took pictures, and we did our fair share of embarrassing lip-singing. we also met up with brandon. brandon was not nearly at the level we were, and i didn’t mind. brandon made sure i had a sip of every drink he got, and kept continuously giving me drinks of my own. something i didn’t think much of at the time.

as the night grew older, i grew more and more tired and knew i was not able to drive myself. brandon offered to give me and my friend a ride home, and i gladly agreed. we dropped her off at her apartment complex, and that’s about the last thing i remember in that 20-minute drive to his empty home. 

i got out of the car, dizzy and unstable, and grabbed a big t-shirt that had been laying in the backseat. i was too drunk to try to comprehend why he didn’t drive me home, too. i remember walking to his room in the basement, and him walking back up the stairs. i made sure i changed when he was upstairs because i didn’t want him to see. after getting into the t-shirt, i climbed into the empty bed, and passed out. 

the next minute i remember is the one minute that i won’t be able to forget for the rest of my life. it didn’t feel much like a minute, it felt like a lifetime. i was face-first in a pillow. i couldn’t feel much of what was going on other than his hand on my head pushing me further and further down. and the weight of his body crashing down on my small-frame. what is happening to my body? i hear him grunting. i hear him say “come on, COME ON!” what is he talking about? what is he doing to me? then it hits me, all at once. i try to move, i can’t. i try to turn over, i can’t. i try to make a noise, i try to say no, i scream in my head and yet nothing comes out. he has full control, he is the power, i am nothing. i can do nothing. i black out again. 

in the morning i wake up, panicked, confused. my head hurts, my body hurts, why is he still sleeping?? i wake him up. “what happened last night? what did you do?” he tells me we had sex. i gather my things, i leave his house and i pick up clothes at my house for work. then i head to my job, the day is the same. i am the same. nothing happened to me. we had sex, he said. i’ll be okay. i wanted him, the same way he wanted me. it’s okay.

the days and weeks that followed are ones that i wish i could take back. i continued to speak with brandon. i needed to feel okay, i needed everything to be okay. i made up a story in my head that it never happened, and whatever happened was okay and i continued to speak with him, i continued to flirt with him, i made plans to see him again. he became nasty to me, he told me i was worthless, he told me i would be nothing. i still wanted to be his friend. he was the second person i had ever had sex with.. he had to be special to me, right?

it took me way too long to realize what he did to me was wrong. what he did to me was a violation. what he did to me was sexual assault. i was raped. when i began to reach out to people about it, they all reacted in a way that made me sink smaller and feel hopeless. some were angry at me, some didn’t believe me, and one girl told me i had made a drunk mistake and i just need to get over it. i began to think she was right. this was my fault. i got into his bed with just a t-shirt on, anything that happened after that was fair game. i did this to myself. 

after informing three of my close friends about it, i decided to tell craig. i was confused, i thought he would be the answer and would make everything okay again. he would understand. he was still my best friend, and the one person on the Earth i felt closest too. i told him my story. he wept, he begged me for a name, and he told me he’d kill the guy. natural reaction for somebody you’re still in love with. i was relieved. later that night he went through my phone while i was asleep. i woke up to him slamming my bedroom door and running out of the house. 

i ran after him and start yelling for him to come back.  “where are you going? why are you doing this?” he ignores me and walks down the street. i chase him. “you didn’t get raped”. he tells me. he looks furious. he tells me he read messages on my phone of me talking to brandon. of course, it looks that way, i start thinking to myself. what normal person would continue talking to someone who assaulted them? 

as time went on, i started feeling worse. craig began telling me that no one would believe my story.  i drifted further away from my friends and family. sex meant nothing to me. i dropped out of classes because of a lack of focus. i did things i’m not proud of, i drank to feel some sort of happiness, i pursued therapy. at the start and end of every day i felt completely and utterly alone. 

i’m not quite sure what exactly began to change that, other than time. i knew that if i didn’t move fast, this would define me for the rest of my life. i couldn’t let that happen. i sought to find things that i love. i needed to find passion again, and i did.

i found it by doing good deeds. i found it by admiring those who do good, and not focusing on the ones who cause pain and misfortune. i found it by pursuing fitness, so my physical strength will be a reflection of my mental battles. i found it in the smiles that strangers give, and the way the sun continues to rise every day. i found it by realizing that this is my life, and nobody will ever take that away from me.

i am now a warrior. i have my scars and i wear them proudly. it doesn’t matter if other people don’t believe my story, because i know what happened to me. it doesn’t matter if someone looks down on me, because i know i am strong. i want to gain power, and to become an advocate for those who have experienced similar situations. 

some days are harder than others, and all my negative feelings come back. on those days, i put my effort into the things i love. i remind myself that i can do anything.

my rape does not define me. it is not a reflection of my character but a reflection of a monster’s. i am the one who survived. i am the one who will not let him win. 

[warrior]

——————————————

if you’ve been hurt in the same or similar way that *warrior has, 

she has offered to talk to you about it.

she wants to help you heal.

she wants you to heal.

compass.

compass.

noun. an instrument containing a magnetized pointer that shows the direction of magnetic north and bearings from it

---------------------

everyone has a chapter they don’t read out loud. 

this is mine. 

---------------------

there’s the most beautiful wedding dress hanging in my closet, and i’ve had to come to terms with the fact that i might never get a chance to wear it…

that’s the basis of my story: the heartbreak of life and the tolerance to the pain that my heart has created in order to get through it; the destruction of hopes and dreams over and over and over again, and the expert i have become at putting it all back together. 

strong, smart, confident—that’s how most people describe me… surrendering and exhausted is how i do.

i’m a very big believer in the fact that our life and who we are is built upon the experiences we endure and the people we choose to let into our lives. 

unfortunately for me, i have a defect: i believe in true love. i believe in the hope of what tomorrow brings and that people, are genuinely good. my God, have i loved… i have fallen into love, like falling into an ocean, falling into the depths of who these men were. i have loved with thorns that have left scratches down my back and kisses so searing they left my lips burning for days…

with the immensity of the love i have felt, i have also experienced the darkness of its heartbreak, the numbing pain of goodbyes and having to erase someone who, over time, became a part of me. unfortunately, the truth is that, no matter how hard we try, no matter how much we want it… some stories just don’t have a happy ending.

people always leave. and for a long time i was the one that was always leaving. my life was a long string of hardships, goodbyes, and a hell of a lot of boxes, broken promises, and forgotten memories. and for a brief moment in time, the whitewashed house felt like home, the moving stopped, and there he was: the worst decision i've ever made.  

though, almost seven years later, i’m not bitter. i have lost and loved and won and cried myself into the person i am today. the worst part is that it was over long before it actually was. but there is just so much stubborn hope in the human heart…

do you think it's possible to be in love with two people at the same time? how about to fall in love with one person, while falling out of love with another? the funny thing about falling in and out of love, is that it doesn't matter what you want, the heart has a mind of its own and makes its own decisions. unwarranted love lost and found. i don't think it gets more complicated than that…

i have suffered. i have been hurt, and scarred, cheated on, controlled and used, and made to feel much less than worthless. but these scars are my documentation of the mistakes i’ve made in trying to overcome them. because no, nobody’s perfect, myself included. i am both the things i’ve done to myself and the things done to me… and along these nerve endings, you will find insecurities, but also a history of me.

nowadays, genuine love is so hard to find. nobody wants it, nobody works for it, and maybe it’s because nobody really believes in it… we define love the way we experienced it. so i could sit here and try and tell you that i know what true love is. that i know what it takes to have studio albums written about you, to sacrifice everything for someone, and what it takes to make someone fall head over heels in love with you. but i can't. and i won't. at this point in my life, i'm not quite sure i've ever known what love truly is… if i've ever loved someone, or if i've ever truly been loved. 

maybe once. a glimmer of hope last year, in the worst year of my life. have you ever wanted something so bad, but been so completely terrified to have it? partly because he was the unexpected love at the worst time, and partly because i have never known real happiness and comfort until him. i hated how much i loved you and how i would have given up anything for you. two nights is all it took—each one more precious than the last, seared into my memory forever: you drunkenly carrying me into the house at three a.m., feeling your smile across your lips because we couldn’t stop laughing, but you couldn’t pull me close enough, and your deep ocean blue eyes that saw me, the real me, and loved me anyway.

but sometimes, timing is everything, and life isn’t fair. and sometimes, fate doesn’t actually fight for two souls to be together… i finally realized that when you called me eight hours before you would be leaving… forever. another goodbye. and for that, i am allowed to be angry. but i’m always angry. it’s the only way i can feel sad and strong at the same time. i’ll never forget the soft, longing “stay” that you whispered in my ear as i started to move to get up to leave your place last summer… why couldn’t you do the same? but you made me believe in the possibility of love again, and for that, even though nothing ever came from this, i can thank you for that… and i can finally let you go.

they say when you finally let go, when you finally stop trying, that is when things begin to fall into place as they should… so here’s to the unexpected.

yes, i have good days and bad. and as i open up my closet each day, i’m reminded of one of my greatest fears. but if calling off my own wedding taught me one thing, it’s that i will not allow anyone one else to control my life. you don’t get to decide whether or not i pursue all of my hopes and dreams. this life is mine, and i get to choose how to live it. i chose freedom and everyday, i choose happiness. enough was enough. and i’m deciding how this story ends.

I COMPLETE ME.

if people want to leave, hold the door open for them. through all of the bad, you have to persevere. find your purpose in life, and hold on to it… never let it go. 

“have some fire. be unstoppable. be a force of nature. and don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.” 

if my life, and its various trials and tribulations, have taught me anything, it’s this:

• first of all, chivalry is not dead; raise your standards.

• you only have so many tomorrow’s; so live them adventurously

• live a life so great that people could never say a bad thing about you; it really takes no effort at all to be a decent human being

• remember where you came from and what it took to get you to where you are today; stay humble

• don’t do anything in this life for anyone else; do it for you and for whoever tried to tell you otherwise

• it’s the simple things in life that really matter, and the impact that you have on the lives of those around you that is important

• you are allowed to completely change your life if it isn’t working; do not marry suffering

• everything really does happen for a reason… i promise.

how am i doing? well, i’m surviving. because i have to. and that’s honestly enough for me.

so i’m sure you’ve seen me: the quiet one with bags under her eyes sipping on what appears to be more milk than coffee, scribbling in a bright yellow notebook, listening to sad acoustic covers to once happier songs, pretending to have it all together... but see, that’s the thing with quiet people, 

“you never know if they’re dancing in a daydream or carrying the weight of the world.” 

i wear half of a broken compass on my wrist, most will never know it’s there, and it’s to remind me that i have no idea where the hell i’m going, but life does… and it’s signed,

— somewhere between emotional and emotionless, but always on to better things.

[r.]

art.

art.

noun. the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual for such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power

"VIRGO: darling, you should surround your room with plants and flowers and life to remind you of what you are every morning when you wake up, because you are art and life and color. but in a different way than most people, and i think that's pretty damn cool. you're so you, and you should embrace that more. if there's something you want to change, something you just want to do, just go ahead and follow your pretty mind. the path you walk on will be paved with sunshine." 

you guys have read this quote before (if you’ve been following me and the brand for awhile). almost 2 years ago I decided I wanted to get the word art tattooed on me. 

almost 2 years ago, i decided that i was going to start fully valuing myself.

almost 2 years ago, i decided that i was going to start loving myself each and every fucking day. 

and now, i am going to tear down all my walls and tell you guys my story…

of course, to kick off “tell your story” campaign that the brand is working on.

read on if you dare. you’re about to get an exclusive on my very messy, cluster fuck of soul. 

_____________________________________________________________________

i am a virgo.

i over-analyze.

i worry.

i feel deeply.

i am an asshole.

i love. 

i am a virgo.

then…

i used to be really happy. really really happy. 

i didn’t have anxiety.

i was not depressed.

i was happy and outgoing and sunshine-y.

i liked who i was.

in fact, i loved who i was.

then freshman year of high school happened.

even 5 fucking years later it’s hard to articulate what happened and how it made me feel.

i hate talking about it.

like even though it was forever ago, talking about it makes it real all over again.

i got told every single day that i was worthless.

i got told every day that i wouldn’t be anything other than somebody to fuck.

i got de-valued. 

a 15-year-old virgin felt so dirty. so corrupted. by words.

they would sit down and tell me what they would do to me. 

disgusting things. 

every day.

and i think about me sitting there and remembering how much i hated my life.

how much i would give to erase all those things out of my memory.

how much i would give to run away.

and it breaks my heart. 

i want to hold 15-year-old me and let her cry.

god knows she didn’t cry for 8 fucking months.

god knows that she didn’t cry until she moved away.

god knows she held it all in.

god knows she was so depressed because she had to make herself numb just to bear going to school. 

she had to make herself numb to not cry when boys said those things.

and when strangers thought they had some right to grab her ass in the hallway. 

but she survived. 

it took me all of sophomore year of high school to teach myself it was okay to feel. 

it took me all of sophomore year to learn that i didn’t deserve that. 

and i learned. 

each year i healed a little more.

each day i had to decide to heal. 

each day i had to choose to nourish my soul with positivity. 

then junior year happened.

that’s when anxiety knocked on my door.

i was scared. 

i didn’t know what was happening.

i didn’t know why i was drowning in panic.

i didn’t know why i couldn’t swim out of it. 

i had to learn patience with my mind, my soul, my chemicals. 

i had to learn that it was okay to feel so scared, so unbalanced, so not at peace. 

i had to learn to breathe.

and i learned. 

but then…

i lost a huge part of myself senior year. 

my anxiety grew tremendously. 

and i felt lost. 

i knew i wasn’t who i wanted to be.

i knew that i wasn’t happy.

i knew that i wasn’t watering my soul with pure water and love.

and i think a large portion of that was because i was with someone who didn’t really want me to feel emotions.

if i was anxious, it was an inconvenience. 

if i was mad, i was crazy.

if i was happy and excited, it was too much.

if i loved, it had to be in the way he wanted. 

and i know he didn’t intend to be manipulative on purpose.

but despite his intentions, he was toxic.

the relationship was toxic.

we were toxic for each other. 

there’s something so absolutely draining about watering a flower that’s dead. 

you want it to resurrect it so badly but all that energy is from you lighting yourself on fire.

and you wringing yourself out to give it a drop of hope. 

at the end of that relationship, i knew that i could not live my life like that anymore.

i can’t love something that mentally and emotionally hurts me. 

i can’t set myself on fire.

i can’t wring myself out. 

my soul needed more.

i deserved more.

that sad, angry, lonely summer before college was so enlightening. 

and with the right vitamins and sunshine and love, i grew.

my soul woke the fuck up.

my god.

i am art.

i am worth it.

i am valuable.

why would i treat myself any less than that?

i am a masterpiece. 

god and neurons and science and stars and pure love made me.

pure love.

real stars are in me.

they are inside of me.

they are me.

and anyone who says that stars and love and flowers and humans are not art, is wrong.

this world is so painfully beautiful.

it is a mess.

there’s heartbreak. there’s pain.

but if you ever look at poems and songs and books and art that stemmed from heartbreak and pain…they’re incredible. they are so raw and beautiful.

and my god, darling, so are you.

let your soul be so beautiful. let your soul be art.

and that’s why i got art carved into my left side.

that’s why art is there.

that’s why it is my reminder to love and nurture my soul.

my heart.

my mind.

my body. 

despite the anxieties.

despite the sadness.

despite the whole fucking mess that makes up my brain. 

i am art.

and

now…

i still struggle. 

i still cry.

i still want to scream.

i still have to remind myself that i deserve love.

i still want to give up…

BUT

i choose to grow.

i remind myself that i deserve love.

i choose to love myself including all imperfections.

i choose peace.

i choose psithurism.

i choose to see myself as art.

because i am.

and so are you.

so take my story.

take your story.

take your own sadness.

take your own heartbreak.

take your own pain.

take your own anger.

and love it.

and love YOURSELF out of that dark, negative, sad world that i know isn’t fun.

love YOURSELF out of all agony.

and once you choose to do so, you can heal.

you can be happy.

you can grow.

my god, you deserve it.

i promise,

eventually it will all be okay.

if you allow it to be. 

xoxo.