Victoria Erickson Quotes

Be around those who crave new galaxies in you.
The light through your veins.
Poetic science.
Wider vision.
Gentler strength.
The moon in your chest.
Gravitational pulls.
Possibility everywhere.
Stars in your eyes.
Expanding horizons.
Something wild.
Something fervent.
Something stunning.
Something divine.

Just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the colour gold.

As life moves we need to move with it, not against it. Transition happens whether we’re ready or not. Of course it’s difficult to let go, to stretch, to accommodate, and to be in between here and there yet- discomfort is inevitable whether you remain in a stagnant story that no longer serves or you decide to choose growth. So choose growth.

Poems are both the doing and undoing. Electric prayers and sonnets. Hope deeper than blood and bone. Wounds you can place your hand on.

The greatest gift anyone could give anyone is for the other to feel worthy, adored and more than enough for all that they are.
This is a gentle reminder that the people you surround yourself with in every direction should feel both uplifting and safe to your mind and heart.
Not confusing, not draining, not controlling, not vague, not calculating, not unreliable, not cold, not dismissive, and not manipulative.
Don’t mess around with the energy you take into your body and being, work wise, friendship wise, and relationship wise.
Life is too short and delicate for these damaging things.
It’s really that simple.

Air is equal parts
oxygen, daydreams
And possibility.

Although I deeply love oceans, deserts and other wild landscapes, it is only mountains that beckon me with that sort of painful magnetic pull to walk deeper and deeper into their beauty. They keep me continuously wanting to know more, feel more, see more.

Don’t dismiss the elements. Water soothes and heals. Air refreshes and revives. Earth grounds and holds. Fire is a burning reminder of our own will and creative power. Swallow their spells. There’s a certain sweet comfort in knowing that you belong to them all.

And you cannot build a home for your worth inside of another being.

I see you standing there with a mouthful of poetry yet a head full of doubt. You are sharp yet softening while needing to be split open and poured out.

To know someone deeply
is to know a universe
contained in skin.

You are not finding your voice.
You are remembering.

Like most sensitive souls, you already know you’re sensitive. You soak up others’ moods and desires like a sponge. You absorb sensation the way a paintbrush grasps each colour it touches on a palette.

Soulmates aren't the ones who make you happiest, no. They're instead the ones who make you feel the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pangs, captivation and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope.

You don’t need to choose mediocrity when fire exists. Fire is passion and passion is aliveness, and for once, allow your belief to undo your disbelief so destiny can hold you in its ecstatic, flaming grasp.