Here I am.
It’s just me again, writing out my thoughts to whoever decides to look.
As my kids used to say, “I’m feeling some type of way.”
Such a vague statement, yet it somehow packs a punch.
I’m feeling some type of way, yo.
I’m upset; my spirit is in need of a hot bath and a full night’s sleep.
I just want to be me.
. . .
While I have a curious mind, I’m truly a simple person, with a simple and happy little life.
I read. I watch movies and TV shows. I coo over my cats and try my hand at arts and crafts.
I enjoy food, wine, and beer.
I love seeing my family.
I love seeing my friends.
And that’s the long and short of it, friend.
. . .
Why do we assign so much to ourselves, and to those we love?
Why do we worry over nothing?
. . .
I need to accept myself, for who I really am.
I’m a thinker.
I’m a risk-taker.
I’m an artist who isn’t afraid of the showing unpopular truths.
I will use my language without shame.
I will dare to be the unsilent majority.
Because I refuse to be another mindless cog in the wheel of history.
. . .
Truly, what chance did you ever take?
Tell me.
I want to know.
. . .
I may be viewed as a rebel, a problem intellectual, a spreader of doubt.
But I’m simply daring to ask questions.
I’m daring to verbalize my insecurities, because I’m not afraid to be unsure.
I do not have all of the answers, and neither do you.
Neither do you.
. . .
So I will move on from this.
I will grieve for what is lost and embrace the reality of what’s ahead.
. . .
“I guess I just miss my friend.”
🕊
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