Sunday, September 18, 2016

Tales


I have to keep reminding myself that I am here, and not there; that it is today and not tomorrow, and that the stories I create are just that: a tale that my mind sings to itself on repeat, stirring a soup of emotions and fibs that do nothing but make my heart sticky and webbed and afraid.

I think I hate not knowing what the future holds, yet I can be so certain and so excited about the mystery of it all. Still, there is an unknown about it; a grey sheet that I can't see through. Thankfully it's up to us to decide what we want to imagine is beyond that sheet. Mostly I have pleasant thoughts; a vibrant imagination and my feet are eager. But I do suppose I am still just a girl with a mind as wild as any other, and I fear just as much as the next person.

Tomorrow I am going to do nothing but notice the sun, or perhaps the clouds before it; I will breathe in the autumn air that sweeps itself around me. I will chop leeks and dice cucumber as though it is the only thing that matters and I will remember that I am simply, simply, right here, right now.

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