My story isn’t sweet and harmonious like
invented stories. It tastes of folly and
bewilderment, of madness and dream,
like the life of all people who no longer
want to lie to themselves.
You may think I’m small, but I have a universe in my head.
I just want somebody who will never stop choosing me.
The meaning of life is that it stops.
I want to get more comfortable being uncomfortable. I want to get more confident being uncertain. I don’t want to shrink back just because something isn’t easy. I want to push back, and make more room in the area between I can’t and I can.
Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.