With you, it seems like the movie could keep going.
I’m ok, I wrote on page 29 of this book… I’m ok and “courage doesn’t roar” and it “whispers” for “tomorrow” (says Audrey), and, but I’m ok. I don’t need announcements this second because, in this second, I’m ok. And, every second counts, right?
Excerpts (I had difficulty spelling excerpts)
He turns away, and I instantly regret questioning the depth of his stare. A surge of passion overwhelms me. Cut it out, that’s not you. It’s as if my arms aren’t registering my brain, and I see them travel away from my body. They reach for his collar. Gently turning his soft golden curls in my direction, I let my fingers slide up to his face. He turns towards me as I let my eyes sink into his. He leans in, and his gaze settles upon me. Where it must be, where it always should be.
Just so you know, secretly, I would. I’d be the first to.
His dimples intensified, crumbling all the strength I held within.
But just so you know, I’d also do so for almost anyone. So, honestly, don’t get too flattered.
Well, just glad to be anyone for you.
Clearly, he was the cheese, and I was the wine.
But, those dimples. Those dimples remained in my presence for the rest of the night. The way they must. The way they always should.
The moment I realized that I’m not here to impress anyone – like you, or maybe unlike you, I’m just a humble resident on this earth who’s making their mark in minuscule or communally colossal ways, my high-pitched, trepid and filler infused, stuttering voice became deeper, my back stood straight, and my eyes faced forwards. The moment I realized that I’m not here to impress anyone, I started doing me. I looked at the crowd and took one second for myself to think “So this is living, huh? Being here to not impress because my being here is not necessarily impressive enough, but it is impressive.” And then, I spoke.
everyone fighting for their life, you’re beautiful, you’re respected. it might hurt today, push through tomorrow, fall the next day, but rise again; I believe you can rise again. you deserve this gift of life. you deserve every blessing. you’re a blessing. it’s not superficial to say that we all care, and we’re all rooting for you. we’re all rooting for those breaths that give us one more precious day.
Waiting for that Shatter
Sometimes inspiration feels like it peaks through after that draining, suffocating, solid glass in your brain shatters.
Waiting for that glass to shatter is tedious, but when it finally does, and trust that it will, rays of light enter the dark vault inhabiting your mind. With that shatter, freshness seeps away the stifling air created by the glass box in your mind.
With that shatter, translucence takes over your mind. With that shatter, the invisible becomes visible. With that shatter, invincibility is a possibility. With that shatter, the scribbled notes on your desk become pages of flourishing poetry. With that shatter, you walk downstairs with a smile on your face, a heart ready to laugh, and a soul that’s ready to last. With that shatter, breathing becomes easy again. In, out; inhale, exhale. With that shatter, breathing is an unconscious act again. With that shatter, your world shines, your world illuminates, you illuminate, you mean it when you smile, and you mean it when you’re too tired to give useless spaces time. With that shatter, irrelevance blurs. With that shatter comes motivation, and a confidence that replenishes your doubts. With that shatter, inspiration strikes for a new tomorrow that’s anticipating light and joy you finally know and not just think that you deserve. And once you’re at a stage beyond the need for a glass in your mind to shatter, which without a doubt can come, you’ll know that inspiration was always at your fingertips. You’ll know that you’ve always been in control of when that glass shatters.