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Reflections On Love, Growth, And The Irony Of Fate
Recently, I found myself wrapped in the warmth of a familiar conversation, this time with a friend who had recently embarked on the beautiful journey of marriage. It’s funny how life’s moments like these can prompt us to look back on our own paths, the choices we’ve made, and the people who have shaped us. My friend’s newfound happiness brought me back to my own story of love, friendship, and the serendipitous twists of fate that led me to my wife, Amelia. Amelia and I share a bond that many doubted because we are both INFJs. It’s a rare Myers-Briggs personality type, known for its intuition, sensitivity, and empathy. People…
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Thomas Slatin, On Love Versus A Soulful Connection
I’ve heard numerous people express their love for me, and it’s sparked some reflection. When someone bares their soul to you in such a heartfelt manner, it’s almost instinctual to feel a profound connection with them. I see this not so much as love in the traditional sense, but as one of the purest forms of human connection—embracing another’s soul. It feels very much like love. Thomas Slatin
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Writing, Photography, And My Life With Amelia
As I sit here, my fingers poised over the keyboard, I can’t help but feel a wave of exhilaration mixed with a hint of disbelief. Today marks the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one that is entirely dedicated to my deepest passions: writing, photography, and my beautiful relationship with Amelia. For years, I found myself juggling the demands of a conventional career with my innate desire to create. My days were filled with tasks and responsibilities that, while vitally important, didn’t ignite the spark within me. Each evening, as I sat down to write or sifted through photos from my latest adventure, I felt a surge of…
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The Fervor Of True Love
The fervor of true love is not to be mistaken for the mere fluttering of the heart, as it goes far beyond the physical realm. True love becomes the palpable feelings of the heart which binds souls together, as closely woven as the petals in a peony’s embrace. It is the whispers of a thousand winds telling tales of unity; it is the laughter of the stars above, cascading in melodies only the heart understands. Thomas Slatin
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Of Stardust And Love
Once upon a shimmering stardust sky, the resplendent planets of our Solar System danced in cosmic grace. Oh, how they gleamed with boundless affection for one another, these celestial sisters, swathed in veils of stardust, orbiting the golden sun in harmonious synchrony. In the midst of this radiant congregation, sweet Mercury, the littlest whisper of a world, fluttered and twirled. With her nimble feet and swift demeanor, she twirled close to her kin, whispering tales of the Sun’s warm embrace. Beside her, Venus, a goddess in her own rite, adorned in golden veils, serenaded the heavens with her timeless beauty. She wore her clouds like precious jewels, and her heart…
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A Letter To My Younger Self
I was recently asked to speak in front of a high school class, and this inspired me to write a letter to my younger self in my diary. I have achieved numerous feats, but there is one particular moment that stands out as the pinnacle of my achievements: being granted the esteemed opportunity to address a high school audience. My dear younger self, it’s with a heavy heart that I must share the harsh realities of life’s journey with you. You are bound to experience heartaches, deeper than what you could ever anticipate. Betrayals will come from the very people you’ve loved deeply, the ones you would have moved mountains…
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Live Fearlessly, Love Unapologetically
Life, I’ve come to understand, is for living. I must pursue those sparks that set my soul alight. I must engage in activities that elicit joy within me. I have to choose to be around those who ground me, those who respect me, who embrace me in a manner that reassures me of my worth, my acceptance, my love. Healing myself is a task I have to take on, even when it stings, particularly when it stings, so as not to approach my existence within the confines of my internal burdens. I must venture out into the world, undeterred by the perceptions of others. I cannot rob myself of experiences,…
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Echoes Of A Lost Love
As I stood by the window, my heart swelled with a deep longing. I wanted to see you walking backwards, as if time itself could be rewound and that familiar sensation of you coming home could be recreated. I ached for those days when your arrival filled our shared space with laughter and love. A time when our hearts danced in perfect harmony, and my world seemed to make sense. I imagined the scene: You, gracefully stepping down the pathway, your strides in reverse, as if the universe understood my yearning and was pulling you back into my life. The wind would tease your hair, playfully lifting the strands and…
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Of Lovers Lost
I often find myself reluctant to take irreversible actions, apprehensive about leaving your side without beholding your captivating visage. I unknowingly still possessed an old photograph of us together when we were 16. The sight of your eyes brings me immense sorrow, as they serve as a reminder of the path I neglected to follow and the journey I failed to embark upon. Nevertheless, deep within my thoughts, I envision a moment and place where fate guided us along a different trajectory. In this alternate existence, our love story unfolded effortlessly, unimpeded by obstacles or barriers. Maybe it was only within a dream or a distant past life that we…
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Summer Camp And The Breakup Playlist
Today I thought about the time when my relationship with Angie was nearing the end, and I returned to my old summer camp in search of solace. I spent a week at my old summer camp, wandering around remembering the ghosts of what once was, and yet it now feels like a lifetime ago in some forgotten dream. Nostalgia is the overwhelming desire to return to the way things used to be, yet refusing to acknowledge the fact that things will never be the same as they were, and our memories are often jaded. Life is beautiful it seems, when I am lost in my own reverie, yet I often…
