How do others find the courage?
If I can’t get better, maybe I’d rather reach that level where I can finally act rather than remain in limbo.
The author and site owner can be reached at leeundercedartrees@gmail.com.
How do others find the courage?
If I can’t get better, maybe I’d rather reach that level where I can finally act rather than remain in limbo.
I write not on account of skill, as I am certainly lacking. Rather, I write because there is a deep need, vast and cluttered with dust clouds and a few faint stars and violent storms and ocean tides and evergreen forests and cycles of the moon and heartaches and hope for life and quiet pleas for death or sleep and a real person turned away, hidden, who I can never become.
The writing will continue until I’ve purged so much need, there’ll be no more words to be said, or my end has arrived — whichever comes first.
If I were to suddenly die unexpectedly, no warning at all, no time to prepare; part of me today wants all of these words spread to all who knew me.
But the catch here is that I can’t care about any of it after I’m gone, so it really makes no difference either way.
Rather, I wish I was better at conversation so I wouldn’t need to be.
One of these days, I will hopefully find a way to properly honour you and what you have done for me.
I have had enough with being met with angry responses to my attempts to be helpful, kind, and considerate of others.
I will no longer engage or pursue. I will distance myself. I may forgive sometimes, but I will not forget.
Those who bite the hands that appreciate them can get absolutely fucked.
I guess the only thing I can do is find something else.
Maybe addition is not the answer. Good design is typically subtractive, not additive. Design my life – what needs to go?
Maybe remove something before adding something. Not enough breaths in the day.
What do I do when writing is no longer enough?
Maybe adding an alternative is not the answer.
Maybe subtraction is the way.
“The best design is subtractive”, I once heard.
In the design of my life, what could I let go?
What would bring peace in its absence?
to fucking cry once in a while
I mark my victories on my skin. Kind of like the notches that warriors used to etch on their weapons, counting their kills, except these are not representing kills, but suppression. Non-lethal temporary marks for non-lethal temporary victories.
Temporary is the best I can reasonably hope for, but temporary or not, they are still victories and they’re truths that won’t be taken away from me.
There are times we are alone, even when people like to say we’re not. Some things we have to do ourselves, so we kind of are alone. We can still connect with others along the way, but that doesn’t mean they are fighting with us.