Mind over Matter and Maple Leaves

There is a leaf that sits upon my arm, and I frequently get asked if I am in fact Canadian. When the response is, "no, I am not." I get a slew of other comments regarding the tattoo. Well, here I am to clear everything up for you curious beings.

When my world comes to a halt, usually every year around September, I look down at my leaf and remember that it is just a season. That even when I thought I would never move through it, I did. It is my reminder to hold on and keep going. That the darkness, although unbelievably consuming at times, is only temporary. 

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reflections in the hazy morning light

This morning I got up and walked into the bathroom. I turned on the light and stood at the sink. I stared at myself and wondered, "how did I let it get this way?" Aside from looking worn out, I look sick. Sick of life, sick of unhappiness. Sick of people asking why I'm losing weight and why I'm always tired. I looked at my reflection in the hazy light of morning and decided I need to change.

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why I'm not a writer but wish to be one..

As a writer, you spew emotions out for the world to see, opening your veins and spilling out the contents pumping from what beats inside your chest. Your writing makes up who you are. Twenty-six letters arranged in a way that reflects your soul. In my recent days, I have encountered writers who bleed for the craft. Housing all these ideas anxiously clawing their way out of the chests of those so in love with what they are capable of.

I want to be one of those people.

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