Boundless Beauty. (300 words)

I hate to be the bearer of bad news in my own expectations or the facilitator of less than my absolute best when I am actively pursuing my dreams. I want to grow tired of the lies I sell myself and follow my heart as it leads me to truth. But it takes so much more than hopes and good thoughts to inspire lasting and effectual change.

Sometimes, you have to break down completely before you will ever follow through.

I am not infallible. Every day I wake up just like you with a choice to do better or to stay statically still. I could go on and on about the times I wasted or the balls I let drop while the world around me refused to stop–but none of that will matter unless I choose to make a difference now, for me.

When you are not emotionally connected to your actions, you will continue to fail without any regard to who you are taking down with you. You will emote and feel things deeply but forget that it is not all about your problems. It is about finding a path in the middle towards achieving and maintaining peace. Peace that can not exist if we are constantly fighting.

I do not want to hear “suck it up” when the truth in love inspires us to speak words of healing over people who are truly suffering. There are a thousand ways we can say the same thing without wounding sensitive spirits with our harsh expressions.

Some days this is harder for us to do–but the most beautiful things have a way of happening in spite of you.

beauty, life, expectations, hope, love, blog

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– Jen Cosby


You are Missing from Me.

As I draw further away from the negative reality of my past year–and come closer to the anniversary of our ending–I am hard pressed to examine and emote and release this anxiety that has already served its purpose for me. I suppose I just gave up when faced with the truth of my deception. I did not fight because I had nothing left to lose. Thought I was strong enough and wise enough to push past the initial defeats, but I will never forget you are missing from me.

I still try at times to make peace in my subconscious. My dreams are filled with road blocks and alternate routes that always lead back to you. Except, I spend most of my time jolted awake by the fact that I cannot change what God has told me is not now possible.

The hope is to give up the hurt you experience, and to focus your efforts on healing.

bloom, growth, healing, flowers, relationships, friendships, loss

Bloom with Intention

We all plant seeds that will one day take root and bear fruit. Whether it is good or bad fruit is determined by what we choose to leave. –Jen Cosby

Usually this would not matter to me. What mattered then is how my hurt manifested itself as a quietly ticking time bomb that without warning exploded on everyone I loved. Shrapnel broke down decades old foundations and opened up carefully concealed scars. This makes me human but also magnifies just how weak I really was. And just how weak I continue to be, when I try to forget you are missing from me.

Today, I walk through doors that I did not have to blow up in order to walk through. They open because they are mine and I did not have to convince myself that I was worthy. They open because I accepted my undeniable part in the mess I experienced and gave up praying God would bless the dysfunction.

I realize my pursuit of wellness may not mean restoration. My desire to be better may never be seen. But I promised myself that I would be honest when I am hurting. And the truth of the matter is you are missing from me.


P.S. As life continues to evolve I am realizing that I am posting less frequently on this site. My goal is to only provide “good” thought provoking content at all times. With my current schedule in mind, I will begin to follow a bi-monthly posting schedule.

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I look forward to connecting with you guys on these platforms!

-Jen Cosby

The Promise Ring. (300 words)

Artist: Henn Kim

I can still feel the imprint of your ring on my finger, reminding me I am not alone. There may be no more messages or pleasantries exchanged—but my thoughts never stray too far from you. I never thought I would have to mourn you, while you were still alive. But I remember the shock in your eyes flip from anger to surprise after I threw said ring in your face. Our final goodbye. How I knew it was over that night in November when you did not come home the 2nd time in a row.

I say little about such things, because emotions have a faulty memory. Extending mercy when absolutely necessary feels impossible when the absence of love kicks you in your gut. I would twist this ring–the symbol of your promise to me–and wonder just how long the truth had been postponed. There was this one time I cried all night, trying to reconcile the gaps in my punctured heart.

Praying that there would be new life after the one we built together fell apart. 

Now you stand in front of me, ringing the doorbell to a house where you used to have a key. I count the amount of days that I have had to do this all on my own. In my dreams we are stronger than ever with a bond that is unbreakable. But dawn wakes me from my fantasy and it pains me to admit you are gone. Prayed for the day God would lead you back home.

I watch curiously as the expression on your face changes from nervous anticipation to quiet relief as I let the distance from the last 6 months close quickly between us.

Sometimes the fight does not begin until after we choose to give up.

Daily Drift (300 words)

I could tell you I am not an organizer. That I do not relish in setting goals or making plans for my future. But the truth is I wake up everyday with an idea of how I am going to advance my life. I can connect with my idea of perfect–fully knowing that true perfection does not exist.

The problem is waiting for another person’s idea of the right time.

I believe I am doing a good job of living my life. That I am doing my best and giving my all with the understanding that I can always do more. I could work smarter and be more intentional, but again I am not perfect. There will never be enough hours in the day to do what I want–and a lot of my waking hours are spent doing what is necessary.

There are times of great clarity when I feel God is propelling me towards my dreams. Then, there are longer lulls of silence and a presence of absence that I cannot leave behind. I hear this voice telling me to “get after it,” because at the end of the day I can only control me. I cannot take tests for my daughter or find better jobs for my family.

At times, it is daunting to even be responsible for myself.

I keep thinking this particular cycle I am subsisting in will stop. That I will wake up and follow the voice that wants better for me. But just like others with great potential, I waste time in fleeting emotions. This tells me I do not know what I want and maybe, I am not capable of change. Maybe I have already given my best and this is the highest I can elevate.

Maybe I am not worth being saved.

A Dying Star w/ the Wind in its Hair.

It would be nice to claim innocence and stand blameless in this mess of a world we are creating. But the truth is, we are inherently responsible for the effects we leave on other people. I know. I am far from perfect. I will not even attempt to list my personal faults–but at the top of these is my willingness to sacrifice live hearts on the fire of indifference. When I get to this place, it does not matter what the object meant to me.

stars, space, dying, life

I will not be happy until it is gone. 

Lately, in my karmic loop I am reaping a ton of restless energy. I wonder what my next steps will hold and who else is not coming with me. After all, fortune favors the bold and those who understand the necessity of abrupt endings. I admire those who seek vaguely repentant deeds, wandering hopelessly in a cloud that takes you right back to where you started. But my riches are not invested in people or groveling on my knees for the sake of other mortals.

Everyday could be beautiful if we would all just learn to keep our mouths shut. Maybe, I find happiness in trying to mind my own business and in leaving others to their own coping mechanisms. I cannot tell someone else how to grieve, nor will I try to reason with someone who is bent on masticating mindlessly over a figurative demise.

This, is like telling a writer what they can and can’t write.

Yes, we are responsible for every character we type.
For the actions we take when we are desperate to survive.
We are tied to the words we speak in the darkest of nights.

But you cannot control them, once they come to life.

Love, You.

universe, galaxy, heart, art, self love

Artist: Federica Bordoni

It will never matter how compatible two people are if they lack the necessary spark. I heard about this chemical imbalance going around, incomparable to all the damage I have ever gone through. Promised myself I would close off my aortic valve–permanently.
But the longer I stand on my own two feet, the harder it is to remain isolated. I claim to be tentatively ready to rejoin the race. Feeling it is possible to purge and at the same time replace.

A damaged heart continues to beat. 

Despite my violent outbursts and protests against my own unnecessary pain, I always resolved to eventually recuperate. There is no excuse for wallowing when life offers so many beautiful new beginnings. We are attracted to quick starts that send reviving jolts to our hearts. Thriving when our affections are reciprocated.

I can see the sun rising over my independent horizon. Natural light floods into the drought of my conscious mood. A cloud lifts, from my negative, misguided loop. Drawing me back to what is important. I am full of resilient stars and effervescent moons. Born to recover one hurt after the other on the verge of a definite breakthrough.

And it is with this full awareness that I can finally face the truth:

No one will ever, love you better–than you.


I woke up in a panicked sweat
searching desperately for something
I knew was not in my bedroom.
Shadows creep–as the darkness plays
against my subconscious’ attempts
at understanding.

I am not mourning or acknowledging
any further distress. I accepted
the keys to my own happiness.
Driving away from this detour
on my way back towards
a more beneficial path.

Doubters laugh–
mocking my progress.
Waiting for the day I fall
Hoping I ask them for help
just so they can applaud their own
pointless existence.

But they were never any
friends of mine.

I am the definition of
tough love and perseverance.
The one who never gives up–unless
I am forced to retreat.

But this isn’t really about me.

It’s about being shaken to the core
by a dream and reaching out
in vain–knowing no one will ever
fully see what you are going through.

It’s about putting on a
brave face and welcoming
the certainty of the unknown.
Being a responsible adult–
even when you find it hard to believe.

Admitting you messed up
and making amends
so long as it does not distract
from your peace.

And if I can just get to this final place
of forgiveness and self-love…

art, drawing, girl, dreams, sara herranz

I know these nightmares will eventually stop.