Right now it’s just a distant memory
As if long gone, but I know better
So now is the time to arm myself
Choose the weapons, don the armour
Smiling all the while, enjoying this time…
Cobain sang about not having a gun, but ate a 20-gauge.
Benington…
Avicii…
I would love to believe that if they had chosen the other path, they would be glad today that they did.
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.
Do I do better with or without it?
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.
Last week I learned the term “penguin pebbling”…
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.
Stream of consciousness (falling asleep) on considering a dear friend’s situation.
Hope you find your purpose
I know I am not your purpose, but if your great purpose is to help others, I know I am contributing, as there is no doubt I am stronger for your support
I’m grateful that I can be overwhelmed and still communicate with you