This is the truth.

Jenna Carver


And this is the truth:
I wake up everyday,
and I do not
of God,
or the aching in my stomach,
or the beautiful creature
sitting next to my bed
whining for me
to let her out
onto the
dewy grass.
I wake up every morning
and think,
“Will he still love me
I’ll sink my head
back into my pillow,
refusing to get up
and greet the sun.
the only certainty I have
is that when the evening comes,
I will
still be loving
That is

We break it.

We break love when we try to touch it.

You learn a lot about love when you lose it, when you break it. 
I learned that we’ll beg God or the universe or whatever we believe in that makes us feel like we have a purpose to just let us start over.

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Mondays & The Truth About You



Monday ain’t got nothing on you. She can’t dull something that shines as bright as you.

You are golden.

That’s what all these struggles are, they’re just Mondays. They seem daunting, they threaten to take you down before you even get going. But these hard things are really just a chance to start fresh, to be better than you ever thought you could be.

You’ve got to stop selling yourself short. People need you, they need your laugh and to see you dancing in the kitchen. They need you to be yourself. I promise you that it will change things.

It will change your mailman, the girl behind the counter at the grocery store, the person across the table. I promise you, just simply being yourself will cause cracks in the concrete, because those feet of yours are heavy with purpose and with passion. Be that person, this is your invitation and your…

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A Dreamer’s Manifesto

Hey Hey Helena

To you who identify yourselves with the title dreamer and who have before you a vision: YEAH!!!

I am a dreamer, but I rarely admitted this to myself. You wanna know why? So called “dreamers” have awful reputations among the people who are working and sweating. They are thought to be those who doodle genius stuff on the corners of journals, who muse at million-dollar ideas, find ways to absolutely change the world, but then simply yawn, sit on their hands, look out the window, change their minds, and don’t chase the thing. I hate this… so much. I used to roll my eyes when I’d hear someone call themselves a dreamer, because to me, dreamers weren’t doers. Dreamers never woke up.

But here’s my revelation: I changed my mind about the meaning of the word.

People might think they’re dreamers, but if they haven’t gotten off of their gluteus…

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New girl.

hannah brencher.


“Clothes,” I say.

“Plans,” he rattles back.


“You hair color,” he laughs.

We keep going back and forth. Ricocheting against one another. Only the roaring of the washer standing between our breaths of silence.

This was our favorite game. Categories. The game where you exhaust one another with all the possible types of cereal and sports teams you can think of before someone gives up and someone wins out. This was our own version of Categories. The category on the table: things that change.

“College majors,” I said.


“Shoes fall under clothes. I win.”

“Not true,” he denies. “Changing your shoes is completely different from changing your clothes… Keep going.”

“Fine. Profile pictures.”

“Good one,” he says. “Twitter bios.”

“Totally gave you that one.

We could go on for days like this, I kept thinking to myself. We could go on bantering and joking and having one another in…

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The Words of a Thunderstorm



They called me a hurricane and said that my love would destroy every one in its path.

They told me to settle down, dry up, stop spinning. They begged me to stop shaking up their perfect little homes that hold the secrets and lies they’ve grown comfortable to keep.

They used to point to the ocean, telling me that’s where my kind comes from. In their not-so subtle comments and struggle to tolerate me, they would dig their shoulders into mine and try to scoot me back out to sea.

I knew I was a force, that I was strong, that something about my presence always seemed to be accompanied by wind and rain.

What I found out later was that, I’m a thunderstorm.

Lightening causes a rumbling sound; that thunder is the after effect of a really bright light. There is a roar that comes with that light. Things get loud…

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Stop sleeping with liars.

hannah brencher.


First things first, stop sleeping with liars.

Stop crawling into bed at night, pulling the covers over your body, and letting liars hiss inside your ear: you’re unworthy. You’re not good enough. You’re falling short. You’re a burden. You’re alone.  

These liars take up room. They snicker and grow when you give them credit. They hold tight to your ankles. They make you feel like less: less of a lover. Less of a mover. Less of a shaker. Less of a person.  Please– for the love of lovelier things– do not fling away your life and feed it to the liars in your head that tell you you don’t add up.

You need to stop holding yourself back. The pity party must cease and you must de-invite the little liars to your darkest parts. You need to stop thinking you have never deserved good things for your life. 

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50 Reminders of Who I Am

Hey Hey Helena

Today, I hiked Stone Mountain by myself and for the first time. The thought of doing this alone seemed strange yet comforting. I usually do these kinds of things with people, for the company, and so I’d never need to take a selfie. This mountain was for me and only Jesus. Also, my selfie game was on point.


The whole way up, I was smiling. I must have looked crazy, but I couldn’t help it. You see, He was overwhelming me with compliments. The littlest things about me, that He loves. How He loves how excited I got when I put on my pink-stripe socks. How He loves the freckles on my shoulders. He loves that I get sidetracked by little flowers and how I take too many pictures.

20140922_190946Then He started to reveal to me that He thought of me when He made the little flowers I was admiring…

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