Now is the Past

and suddenly she was terrified of life again.

she mourned the past
the future,
that will be the past
so soon
tomorrow
today
this second

those people
whom she worked to grow with
to develop
will be irrelevant
forgotten

except for facebook
and it is there
only to remind her
so she can find them
stalk them
if she wants
if she thinks that it will make her feel better
to be reminded of their name.


i don't pretend to be a writer.

Where are the ships?

Such a good talker, an enthusiastic projector, beaming out. Three days a week, without fail. Her short hipster hair bounces with all her shits and giggles. Those around her are inspired. They attempt to beam back with such strength, but they are out-shined. She is a lighthouse: flash, flash, only emitting. We are all lighthouses. We flash and flash, trying to call out, only showing, never knowing, never trying to find out. The most beautiful lighthouses are those who shine brightest. A lighthouse shines and shines and never sees. We are those who talk and never listen. We all want to be Cape Hatteras, shiny, tall, and striped. We want the world to know our light. But if we are all lighthouses, where are the ships?

I don't pretend to be a writer.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

I can still hear my bones straining under the weight of all of the lives I am not living.  They are screaming.  They keep me up at night,

Blondegirl,

Sitting two spaces away.  You are not real.  You are not a humanbeing.

You are a painting, a mediocre painting.

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

....


It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

I can do this.

"I CAN DO THIS!" she wanted to shout.  She wanted to shout to the world.  She wanted everyone to know.  She wanted someone to know about this epiphany that had struck her across the face.  She wanted them to know.  She wanted them to rejoice with her.

But she was in a library and didn't think that shouting would be a good idea.

If only everyone listened to Cat Stevens.

If you want to sing out, sing out.
If you want to be free, be free.
Cause there are a million ways to be
You know that there are.

Yes you know that there are.

Sadly, if you sing out, you get some pretty annoyed looks.

Helsinki

I want to go.