Sometimes I hate that my hands shake when I do hard things– say hard things. I understand it’s because I am inherently soft. Maybe, sometimes, I regret the softness? Not so much regret? Am annoyed by it’s constant hovering. Having said this, I am reminded that I am the soft girl, who does the hard…
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It’s such a confusing feeling on the days that I think about her— and want to look for her, but I don’t. I should be proud of myself, but sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the emptiness of the echo. Tonight I thought about her but reminded myself that looking for her doesn’t serve me. And if…
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I’m not great at showing weakness. I applaud anyone who is actively vulnerable because I think it’s one of the most freeing ways a person can live– and I’m doing my best to move more towards it. I want to learn the mechanics behind the voice and how to better steer the sounds, however when…
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imagine yourself belly up and shivering this is the thing you hate the most— vulnerability light shifting and reshifting and razoring the skin this is the thing you need the most– weak, trembling thank god for this earth, this dirt, this grounding of palm and grass because you are spinning and spinning and remember when…
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there’s a constant humdrum of life that spills in and out and all around. i like eavesdropping on elderly women gossiping about their family and teenagers giggling at their cellphones with each other. i like hearing the baristas talk about their lives, and the wedding (i am very excited about this wedding for these two…
Read more i forgot how much i liked sitting in coffee shops
something about layers being too thin and when we see them, it just means that we the living have thinner layers. I wonder if that means that if you see them, you are closer to dying that those who cannot? marjorie understands that sometimes i need to be alone for awhile but that i love…
Read more Marjorie thinks that ghosts can be broken down into science
Speaking on love Erica tells me her new girl has one of the purest heart she has ever met. She pauses briefly, looks at me. Follows it up with “Or at least the purest heart that I have had the privilege of being with.” Speaking on friendship, Leslie says to me, “Well…” and she stops.…
Read more the ache inside of the pause