whatever you read in a story book is pure fiction. i know the truth and the way it shines through my window. i remember the rotting of the melancholia you covered me with in the feigned concept of protection. you see the big picture as dark, dreary. everything is suspect, no one can be trusted. life was to be lost, not lived. my reality is of sunshine and a beautiful life. every day is tremendous. keep your view if you choose, but know this – it is not mine. i live out loud.
me? i choose naivete. i walked thirty-nine years and begin thirty-nine more. that is love, i tell you. that is everything and nothing all wrapped up in a day where it rains while the sun comes out. that is MY world. live what you choose. i learn, but i don’t give up the sun. there is no resentment, there is no bitterness. i lived, i live, i will always.
each day, we are amongst our own minds. this path i walk along, you know not. did you ever. it’s okay. because i’ve let you go. i’ve let all the poison roll off my arms and i smile as it disintegrates. my life is a good one.
whenever the day begins, so do i. my heart is a strengthened beating creature, bursting forth and tripping down the path, on my sleeve and in the melody. i sing to myself and i see the lost twinkles and i ease them into brightness, into being. there is nothing more important to me than to hear you let go of that sigh and breathe, fully. how i want you all to see yourselves.
be well. always be well.