Breath on Bones

I’ve felt grossly nostalgic this evening, for places and things that do not exist in my world. Missing my light and my darkling and much more.
So I thought I’d ponder on irony. On loss. Some of the pathetic turns that shape a beautiful, if tragic reality.

● I’m a writer. I write to express things I cannot otherwise express. However, I don’t write much of what dwells in my mind because it is, by nature, darker or unhappy. And that makes people concerned. I am very
appreciative to have people who notice and care, but it does make writing my mind…awkward sometimes.

● I sit here with a connection to the Internet.  I literally have a tie to every corner of the globe. Everything we know as a species is here. With time and patience I could learn everything human kind now knows. Yet there are moments I find myself bored. People less interested in learning have done so much more with so much less.

This maybe the single greatest tragedy of this generation, that we squander such opportunity on apathy due to convenience.

● With time off from school or work I have accomplished nearly nothing. The old adage is true. If you want something done, ask a busy person. When I have nothing to do, I will do nothing. If I don’t have a spare second, I’ll change the world.

● If I need to sleep, I have to make plans. If I have the chance to sleep I will literally spite rest out if restless anxiety.  If I can’t afford to, I’ll sleep through my alarm, texts, phone calls and possibly armagedon.

● Making plans will also guarantee that my body and mind give out. Just saying…

I could keep on for quite a long time.
The point being that life will actively be everything other than what you expect. So take the chance to enjoy where you are.  It may not be home. But it can be perfect for now.
Tell the people that matter that they matter. If you’ve said it a million times,  always say it once more. They need to hear it. Believe me, they do.
You’ll never be ready for the big steps. Not until you take them.
Sometimes you have to trust that you aren’t the Joker you think the world sees, and just be thankful that Harley  love you.
The deepest night brings the brightest stars.
If, in that dark night you can’t find the light, maybe it’s because you are the light.

And when all else fails, a few shots of whiskey can carry you that last few steps and probably then some.
So keep a flask handy. It holds the lullaby at bay.

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