Reminder: learning isn’t supposed to make you feel bad. Sometimes the """right""" way doesn’t work and it’s alright. There is beauty to be found in chaos.
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positive habit ideas
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ wake up earlier
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ exercise regularly
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ drink more water
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ follow a budget
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ read at least 10 pages per day
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ plan your week every sunday
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ listen to something positive in the morning
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ journal
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minimise digital clutter
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ get adequate sleep
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ build financial security (emergency fund)
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ take evening walks
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ practice a new skill
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ avoid multitasking
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ check in with your personal goals once a week
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ put your phone away during conversations
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I’ve been telling myself the reason I can’t write anymore is because I’m not sad. Because there’s no pain inside me to flow out of my trembling hands onto paper, there are no sorrows clouding my vision to make my poetry hazy.
I can see straight and sometimes I feel poetry needs to be twirly and zigzagg-y.
But, I’ve been trying to be sad lately. Trying to find wretchedness among the mists, among the nights I stay up laughing, trying to feel what I felt before, trying to pour poetry back into my veins. Maybe this is some stupid excuse.
But here’s how it really is. I keep finding myself beaming at unfamiliar faces and sipping hot chocolate over brunch dates with new friends, or falling back into rhythm with old ones.
Or that one time I snuck out to my best friend’s house and we danced to alcohol in our bodies but we were sober enough to remember one of the best nights of our life. So maybe there’s nothing poetic about this. Or maybe there is.
I know poetry is more beautiful than sad and there’s something really very beautiful about loving life.
-H.S.
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