Where do you draw the line between a child and an adult?
and who gets to draw it? Is it when you're fourteen beginning to accept fault? Or at sixteen when you can drive? Or at eighteen when you're legally allowed to vote? And to get thrown out into the world Or is it at twenty-two, coming home to somewhere that is now unfamiliar and suddenly - Your growth hits you like lightning because you have changed so much, Thank God but our parents - their reality is so set in stone, it's not worth jolting them out of it. They are who they are and all we can do is trust they love us in spite of the things that we do because after all, we are adults taught by them to live in a way that is best for us
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I think it's sort of funny but I indulge it nonetheless
The decision we made to honor each other like it's a holiday every year on the day we were born With candles and cake and wrapping paper making a mess Singing and laughter and nothing but love I have to say out of all our weird traditions we've kept over time it's my favorite Because everybody deserves one day regardless of the senslessness of it - to know they are loved with no second guesses Most of us believe there has to be more than the darkness that envelopes us when we sleep
and that we assume also comes after death because it being a permanent loss is not enough to live for. The end can't just be the end IF it is, we must take heart with this It is the only thing that brings me comfort, knowing that those gone live on in memories, in the stories we tell of their triumphs and hopes and as long as we have descendants, our lives never end regardless of what truly occurs as our eyes close, and our souls go wherever we pretend There are so many unseen bends in the road
There are so many places I've yet to take a taste of There are too many countries and cultures and cities and people and lives that I'd love to try on I don't think that I will ever have a home I picture crossing oceans and leaving footprints I picture my children traveling with me on wild adventures content with their belongings in backpacks I picture hundreds of new things overwhelming me But in the best way. We'll be unstoppable Tears
Not from sadness but from joy The only pain is in our sides from breathless laughter These are the nights I live for The nights without fear Fear of the future, the past, it doesn't matter when we laugh Life becomes more than a chore We remember it is a privilege to be alive So - cry from smiles and enjoy There are only two pastimes that I allow to steal the time from me
I cannot decide which is my favorite To play the piano or to read Each invites me into another world, compelling me to forget what is and to sink into what can be The best part is not only does the time pass, but that I don't even notice since the pages set me free whether they be covered in words or notes doesn't matter because, I think you'll agree, the sensation can't be beat Everything about us is backwards
and somehow it make perfect sense I feel like I've known you in another life, another universe, our connection is so intense Not even for bodies, for heat, no, your hunger is for me A notion that to my past self seems absurd But you seek out who I am You question, you make time, you are enamored You are my soulmate, my one and only - you make my heart melt With your inability to grasp any word quite the right way and your lovely, intelligent view I could gush about your smile and your eyes for hours but I know that'd embarrass you But your optimism, your compassion, your determination to improve Darling, you're a much better person than you think, and it makes me want to move forward for you (and for me) And you make me wonder if it's possible to fall in love because of and in spite of someone's flaws at the same time Yes I do not relish the feeling of creative panic
knowing I must publish something, anything, by this time tomorrow. but lately that paralysis is all I feel Fear that maybe I am meant to make a difference. That's a belief I have to borrow and it scares me because it means responsibility Not only to write what is on my heart, but to help the world to grow. But is my struggle even justified? All I know is I feel life with every fiber in my being and death brings me not only sorrow, but terror because I have not done enough for my work to go on after me. And what is enough? Will I know by tomorrow? Something new today
Fall always brings nostalgia Seasons remind us of new beginnings the calendar keeps turning And we keep wishing for change to appear Someday
We love that word It is an excuse to pretend that we will live forever, Even though the proof of death surrounds and disturbs us every person alive plows on pretending that we can outrun ourselves. But there is no cure except to accept death. Then, and only then, can we allow ourselves to live in spectacular ways. This is all we get, in case you haven't heard. Make every second count - please, for my sake, vow to yourselves that you will chase your dreams, even those that are unheard. |