“Reality never repeats itself. The exact same thing is never taken away and given back.” – C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Everything that I’ve ever done

because I should have has turned out horribly.

Everything that I have ever done that I’ve wanted to do (the things that make me, me) but was almost too scared to do has turned out to be a terribly horrifying roller coaster of ups and downs and ship loads of insecurities all bundled into a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants adventure. Utterly satisfying and completely and despairingly terrible all at the same time.

encountering doubt

when you meet each other on the street, you are to say, “I understand where you are coming from, I hear you – but I respectfully disagree.”

teetering

between hopelessly hopeless and infinitely infinite. 

rewriting the same story over and over again.

the same thought swimming around in your mind,

“hey, i think i’ve seen that tree before.”

looking back to see 

you’ve been forever stretched, like a gum of rope,

from one end to another,

weathering a great and beautiful expanse – 

for what?

it is yet to be seen.