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Quote by Thea Guanzon

“His past shouldn't matter; he should hardly even matter, outside of the role he would play in her endgame. And yet Talasyn kept circling back to that night in his chambers, how he’d been so broken, how he’d asked her to be kind. How sweetly he’d kissed her.”

Quote by Thea Guanzon

Book:A Monsoon Rising
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A Monsoon Rising

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Thea Guanzon

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“Did—were you—” Alaric faltered, each word laboriously plucked out from his stupor. “Did you think that I … would strike you?” Talasyn remained silent a beat too long. Long enough for him to confirm that her answer, though unspoken, was yes. “I wouldn’t—” He hit the floor on his knees and shuffled toward her. She straightened up with the intention of nudging him to do so as well, but he flung his arms around her waist. “Tala, I would never”—he buried his face in her midsection—“never when we’re not sparring,” he said fiercely. “Never when I’m drunk, never in our room—” “I know.” She carded her fingers through his soft hair, in a tentative attempt to soothe him.”

HeartacheAlaricTalasynTalaDrunk Alaric
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“Gestern, inmitten des zarten Übergangs vom Morgengrauen zur Abenddämmerung, fühlte ich mich verloren zwischen der greifbaren Umarmung der Realität und dem vergänglichen Reich der Träume und Illusionen. Die Freude an der Erinnerung, einst ein geschätzter Trost, entzog sich nun meinem Zugriff, denn es gab keinen Begleiter, mit dem ich diese wertvollen Erinnerungen teilen konnte. Es war, als hätte die Abwesenheit meiner Geliebten diesen gemeinsamen Erlebnissen die Essenz entzogen und sie hohl und distanziert gemacht. Der Verlust eines unverzichtbaren Menschen fügt dem Herzen eine tiefe Wunde zu, die nie vollständig heilt. Sie bleiben für immer in den zerbrochenen Kammern unserer Seele präsent, ihre Essenz ist für immer mit unserer eigenen verbunden. Die einfachen Nuancen unseres gemeinsamen Daseins, einst Quellen der Wärme und des Trostes, dienen heute als eindringliche Echos, die vor Schmerz nachhallen. In der riesigen Fläche, in der sich einst deine Präsenz befand, existiert jetzt eine Leere – eine Leere, die genau nach diesem Bild geformt ist und von keinem anderen gefüllt wird. Ich navigiere ständig durch die Konturen dieser Leere, durchquere tagsüber ihre Tiefen und erliege nachts ihrer allumfassenden Dunkelheit. Es ist eine Kluft, die kunstvoll in die Silhouette deiner Abwesenheit eingraviert ist, eine Leere, die sich allen Versuchen der Schließung widersetzt, denn niemand sonst kann jemals den Raum einnehmen, den du einst in meinem Herzen gehalten hast.”

PainLossGriefLonelinessLongingMemoryAbsenceHeartache
Author:Rolf van der Wind
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“The men repeatedly request that she play Elgar’s “Nimrod” even though it appears to affect them powerfully. She finds it hard to watch them fight to maintain their composure as the kettledrums roll and the score ascends to its heights. It must cause them something close to agony. Perhaps, she thinks, that is what they require: something that allows them to follow their pain as it rises, in its most beautifully orchestrated form— one that insists on the inevitability of whatever will come, and then releases them, gently, with that knowledge. It is not comfort it gives them, she realizes, but acceptance; not an anaesthetizing of sorrow, but a clear articulation of it,”

WarMusicHeartache
Book:The Whalebone Theatre
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“I learned that there is healing in expressing the ugly ... Sometimes the only way to pull the weeds inside your soul is to vomit out your vitriol. The exorcism of deeply harbored pain eased my feelings of anxiety. It tempered the physical illnesses bred by emotional pain and taught me just how tied one's mental and emotional health is to their physical state. There is a lot of unseen optimism beyond the murky depths of my darker musings. Smiles and laughter and joy and intimacy have grown in the empty spaces left by things long-held but finally released. And while the tsunamis and the waves still sometimes break against the quieting waters of my soul, I am learning to ride them with more grace and less water in my lungs.”

WritingGriefHealingDepressionAnxietyMental HealthHeartacheWellnessJournaling
Author:Elizabeth Carlton
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