I Am Alright Quotes

Singing in the rain. I'm singing in the rain. And it's such a fucking glorious feeling. An unexpected downpour and I am just giving myself into it. Because what the fuck else can you do? Run for cover? Shriek and curse? No--when the rain falls you just let it fall and you grin like a madman and you dance with it because if you can make yourself happy in the rain, then you're doing pretty alright in life.

It's impeccable how brutal the truth can be at times. You can only admire it. Usually, we walk around constantly believing ourselves. "I'm okay," we say. "I'm alright." But sometimes the truth arrives on you, and you can't get it off. That’s when you realize that sometimes it isn’t even an answer - it's a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.

I didn't think I was in a morbid mood, but it appears I am. My mind goes round and round trying to figure things out, but I always come back to the same two things: Loneliness and Death. Life ends before we figure anything out, most importantly how not to be lonely. Solitude is fine. But feeling like you have no one to love - abject lonliness - is not alright.

I’m alright,” Loki assured me with a grin and stepped out into the hall, so we could have some privacy from onlookers. “What can I do for you, Princess?” “Can I cut off your head?” I asked. “Are you asking for my permission?” Loki tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “Because I’m going to have to say no to this one request, Princess.” “No, I mean, can I?” I asked. “As in, am I capable of it? Would you die if I did?” “Of course I would die.” Loki put one hand against the wall and leaned on it. “I’m not a bloody cockroach. What’s all this about? What are you trying to find out?

So ask me if I am alright. 'I’m fine; I’m always fine.' You see this look in my eyes. 'No, I’m fine. I am always fine.' There is a corpse behind my smile. 'Listen, I am fine. Always, always fine as fine can be.' 'Are you okay?' 'I am more than okay. I am more than fine. I am wonderful!

So we stand there, part of a crowd a thousand people strong, beaming up at the sky with wonder. I knew with a sudden certainty that wherever I am in the future - up in my treehouse, alone in the school cafeteria, or trying to figure out what my teachers are talking about, a part of me will always be right here, right now, wish that giant eye in the sky shining down on me, telling me it's going to be alright.

I want nothing more than to climb between the silk sheets and wrap our nude bodies around one another. I want to hold and be held. Sex is a wondrous thing, but tonight I wish to be comforted more than pleasured. I feel like a child in the dark who knows the monsters are under the bed. I want to be told it will be alright, but I am far too old to believe such comforting lies." - Jean-Claude

No I am not all right!” Chrestomanci said, after five minutes of this. “I have worldwide blisters. I need a shave. I’m tired out and I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday. Would you feel alright in my position?

It's alright" said a dreamy voice from beside Harry as Ron vanished into the coach's dark interior. "You're not going mad or anything. I can see them too." "Can you?" said Harry desperately, turning to Luna. He could see the bat-winged horses reflected in her wide, silvery eyes. "Oh yes," said Luna, "I've been able to see them since my first year here. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am." Smiling faintly, she climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after Ron. Not altogether reassured, Harry followed her.

The Normal is the good smile in a child's eyes:-alright. It is also the dead stare in a million adults. It both sustains and kills-like a god. It is the Ordinary made beautiful: it is also the Average made lethal. The Normal is the indispensable, murderous God of Health, and I am his priest. My tools are very delicate. My compassion is honest. I have honestly assisted children in this room. I have talked away terrors and relieved many agonies. But also-beyond question-I have cut from the parts of individuality repugnant to this god, in both his aspects. Parts sacred to rarer and more wonderful gods. And at what length...Sacrifices to Zeus took at the most, surely, sixty seconds each. Sacrifices to the Normal can take as long as sixty months.

Ladies, if you’re single there is nothing wrong, sinful or wicked about desiring a husband, nothing. Anyone who would say otherwise is absolutely lying to you. God wired you for it, He built you for it. Men, there is nothing wrong, wicked, or evil about wanting a wife. I don’t know when that happened, I don’t, now listen I do think that you need to be content where you are today, alright, but listen I’m content with what Christ is doing in me today but I don’t want to be who I am today, I’m hoping Christ will complete what He began. It’s okay, it’s alright, who made it so complicated? it’s okay, it’s okay to want a wife, it’s okay to want a husband, those are good things, they’re really good things. It’s okay, it’s okay to want.

You are very beautiful,” Ilya said. Shane smiled without opening his eyes. “Come on.” “Is the truth. Your freckles.” Ilya grazed a fingertip over his own cheek. “I am nuts about them.” “I have no idea why. I hate them.” “Noooo...” Ilya moaned. “Hollander. They are stunning.” “Stunning?” “Yes. Am I not using that word right? Very beautiful. Um...take my breath?” “Wow. Alright” “I told you...” Ilya grinned. “You love praise.” When Shane didn’t reply, Ilya said, “And you like to hog it all for yourself. You asshole.

When People Ask How I’m Doing I want to say, my depression is an angry deity, a jealous god a thirsty shadow that wrings my joy like a dishrag and makes juice out of my smile. I want to say, getting out of bed has become a magic trick. I am probably the worst magician I know. I want to say, this sadness is the only clean shirt I have left and my washing machine has been broken for months, but I’d rather not ruin someone’s day with my tragic honesty so instead I treat my face like a pumpkin. I pretend that it’s Halloween. I carve it into something acceptable. I laugh and I say, “I’m doing alright.

What's the problem Earthman?" said Zaphod, now transferring his attention to the animal's enormous rump. "I just don't want to eat an animal that's standing here inviting me to," said Arthur, "it's heartless." "Better than eating an animal that doesn't want to be eaten," said Zaphod. "That's not the point," Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he said, "maybe it is the point. I don't care, I'm not going to think about it now. I'll just ... er ..." The Universe raged about him in its death throes. "I think I'll just have a green salad," he muttered. "May I urge you to consider my liver?" asked the animal, "it must be very rich and tender by now, I've been force-feeding myself for months." "A green salad," said Arthur emphatically. "A green salad?" said the animal, rolling his eyes disapprovingly at Arthur. "Are you going to tell me," said Arthur, "that I shouldn't have green salad?" "Well," said the animal, "I know many vegetables that are very clear on that point. Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am." It managed a very slight bow. "Glass of water please," said Arthur.

And, what's more, this 'precious' body, the very same that is hooted and honked at, demeaned both in daily life as well as in ever existing form of media, harrassed, molested, raped, and, if all that wasn't enough, is forever poked and prodded and weighed and constantly wrong for eating too much, eating too little, a million details which all point to the solitary girl, to EVERY solitary girl, and say: Destroy yourself Oh, and I certainly don't suffer from schizophrenia. I quite enjoy it. And so do I What's the big fucking deal? Lots of amazing people have committed suicide, and they turned out alright He cried when I left, which I find to be standard male behavior I do not have OCD OCD OCD "Simply put, if you are a Wayward Victorian Girl, I'll find you" "We had people fainting during the last tour, but I'm aiming for people to actually drop dead at this one." Hey, look at me! Look at me! Look at me! And...look at me. Will he think I'm sexy enough? Will he find me wholesome enough? Am I fuckable?

Tell me I am going to be alright," I plead to my Tiger Lily. "You're not alright," the flower talks back. "You're insane, Alice. Insane!" It spreads it's petals and spits in my face. I am hallucinating again.

Alright, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade - make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager. Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons. Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons. I'm going to to get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

I love her face when she smiles. But it could be that her smile is a lie that she uses to hide her clenched teeth, I don't understand why she cried. I can't even say, "You'll be alright." But I will always be by your side. After all, I am your cat.

Do you ask me how I explain the origin of this world and origin of man? Alright I tell you. Charles Darwin has tried to throw some light on the subject. Study him.

Zaphod left the controls for Ford to figure out, and lurched over to Arthur. "Look, Earthman," he said angrily, "you've got a job to do, right? The Question to the Ultimate Answer, right?" "What, that thing?" said Arthur, "I thought we'd forgotten about that." "Not me, baby. Like the mice said, it's worth a lot of money in the right quarters. And it's all locked up in that head thing of yours." "Yes but ..." "But nothing! Think about it. The Meaning of Life! We get our fingers on that we can hold every shrink in the Galaxy up to ransom, and that's worth a bundle. I owe mine a mint." Arthur took a deep breath without much enthusiasm. "Alright," he said, "but where do we start? How should I know? They say the Ultimate Answer or whatever is Forty-two, how am I supposed to know what the question is? It could be anything. I mean, what's six times seven?" Zaphod looked at him hard for a moment. Then his eyes blazed with excitement. "Forty-two!" he cried. Arthur wiped his palm across his forehead. "Yes," he said patiently, "I know that." Zaphod's faces fell. "I'm just saying that the question could be anything at all," said Arthur, "and I don't see how I am meant to know.

You want someone to get up, then you get up,” Neil said to Humphrey. “Alright, I will,” Humphrey said, then didn’t so much as twitch. “Am I up?” “No,” Belinda said. “Well, I tried,” Humphrey said. “At least I’ll be able to say I died valiantly.

You trying to tell me a woman can’t be nothing without a man. But you alright, huh? You can just walk out of here without me - without a woman – and still be a man. That’s alright. Ain’t nobody gonna ask you, “Avery, who you got to love you?” That’s alright for you. But everybody gonna be worried about Berniece. “How Berniece gonna take care of herself? How she gonna raise that child without a man? Wonder what she do with herself. How she gonna live like that?” Everybody got all kinds of questions for Berniece. Everybody telling me I can’t be a woman unless I got a man. Well, you tell me, Avery – you know – how much a woman am I?

When you get beef from the butcher, you don’t feel bad for the cow that has been killed. But if someone asked you to wield a knife and kill the cow yourself, you wouldn’t be able to do it.” “Are you saying that you are a cow?” “Exactly.” “What?” “You found me alive and couldn’t bring yourself to kill me. It would have been alright if the storm had finished me off. I am like that cow and the storm is the butcher. Do you see now?” “Yes, I see. You absolutely insist that you are a cow. I am not arguing.

I look down at his hand and laugh without quite knowing why. “You deserve some sort of reward for putting up with me.” “You’re my reward.” “Shit reward I am.” “Why do you think everyone needs some sort of recompense for being around you?” he says, his voice so gentle I almost start to cry. ... He wraps an arm around me and I can feel the light touch of his hand on the back of my neck, fingers stroking my hair. "You don't owe me sex, you don't owe me anything. I'm with you because I want to be, and if we're together it'll be because we both want to be. And we're going to London together because we want to, and it's going to be a disaster, but that's alright because we'll have each other, and there's no one on this goddamn planet I'd rather be with than you.

Breath (from the book Blue Bridge) Whispering to myself With every step I take, Trying out names, for I know There is something yet to be called ….. I know it, something up ahead Just around the bend Or over the rise – A bird taking to the sky From the edge of a jagged cliff – A bird floating outwards In silence ……. A silence Waiting for a footstep To crunch on stones, For a voice to fling upward Through sharp sunlight With a name…… calling Before the bird could call Before the bird called. Oh the bird was there alright And sure it took flight When it heard me approach But it broke my heart With a mighty croak! So I’m sitting here playing With a purple flower Slender stem, no leaves Purple fizz – And it’s quiet again. I am still I am nothing And the hill Is a long, long slope Down, down, down to the sea Far below. I could roll I could run I could scream But I am nothing. A cool wind blows And the light is naked and nameless And the rocks are faces of angels And the bird in the sky wheels And cries to forget the earth And its ancient bones – Oh, sensual pain – Wings…. Wings…. Wings, Singing wings. If only I could begin To describe the emptiness Which fills me to the brim With new breath I might almost lose my name And take instead a feather for my soul.

A princess was known as “Beauty without Soul”. No prince was ready to marry her because she didn’t have a soul. She went to the Temple of Souls to get a soul. The head monk of temple was very ugly. She said to him, “if an ugly person like you is in charge of souls, I am better without a soul.” When she came out of the temple, many princes were standing in line with marriage proposal because she had accepted herself the way she was, she had accepted that she was alright without a soul. In other words, she now had a soul.

There is nothing temporary about us.” “I know that. I know that, now.” “You’re sure?” I ask again. “I am sure about many things that I wasn’t sure of before. I’m sure, it’s alright to be happy all the time. I’m sure that I want to make you happy, all the time. I’m sure that no matter what happens, if we have one or five--” “Six.” I smile as I take her face in my hands. “I’m sure if the sky falls down and the Earth splits in two, you will find a way to force me through it. Dominic, you’re happiness is just as important to me.” “We’ve decided it.” “We have.” “We’re going to have a child.” “Yes.” “And get married.” “Whenever you want to.” “And six kids.” “We’ll see.” She laughs but doesn’t say no. As I hug her tight, I thank our angels in the heavens for guiding us to one another.

Stop. You can’t love me because you’re lonely, or because I am the only one who doesn’t piss you off. I want to piss you off, I want to get on your fucking nerves. I don’t want the responsibility of always being your rock. I will try, but I’m a mess, too. I lie, I sleep too much and I don’t like children under the age of 6, really. I don’t even know if I want kids because I’m selfish, and mothers can’t be selfish once they decide to carry another life. I’m always looking for the rain to come so I trip over my own feet. I know exactly what the air smells like before a storm. Before you fall in love with me, I want you to know that I cry a lot because it feels good, and I masturbate at least 4 times a week, and you might fall out of love with me before either of us are ready for it. I have no experience with this. I’m trying to be brave and smart but its almost impossible to be both at the same time. You can’t love me like a fire escape. Sometimes I will be the match, or the smoke under the door. I don’t know what I’m doing, all I know is that we all catch fire sometimes, before we even get warm. Before you fall in love with me, I want you to know that there’s a 50% chance that this won’t work, that one of us will wind up hating the other. I will try to keep your head above water, but sometimes I’ll need help, too. I can’t be your savior, and I don’t expect you to be mine. Just watch me unfold and I’ll watch you unfold, too. We’ll get drunk and tell each other everything. I know that’s cheating but maybe it’ll be alright. Maybe we won’t wake up embarrassed. I am going to fall in love with you, too, feet first. Maybe we’ll slow dance off a building together, maybe we’ll have forgotten each other’s names by this time next year. I don’t care, the sky is gray with or without you, so I’m not going to look up anymore, I’m going to look ahead .

I am a mother to my mother, and I never wanted to be. it just fell into place when she fell to her knees. I was a child, afraid inside, telling her that everything would be alright. raising myself while raising my mother, but all I ever wanted, was to be her daughter.

I know everything's alright but I want proof and the Buddhas and the Virgin Marys are there reminding me of the solemn pledge of faith in this harsh and stupid earth where we rage our so-called lives in a sea of worry, meat for Chicagos of Graves - right this minute my very father and my very brother lie side by side in mud in the North and I'm supposed to be smarter than they are - being quick I am dead.

You like Superman?” I shrugged, “He lacks the boyish charm of Spiderman, but he’s alright.” “I’m like Superman.” I rolled my eyes. “This should be good. And who am I? Louis Lane?” A solemn shake of his head, and then his hands were tangling in my hair. “You’re kryptonite.

What was I thinking? I thought him sitting across from me would make it easier. Stupid me! Now I have to stare right at the warrior archangel and try to stay focused. I closed my eyes for a minute. Come on, Kells. Focus. Focus. You can do this! “Okay, Ren, there really is something that we need to discuss.” “Alright. Go ahead.” I blew out a breath. “You see, I can’t…reciprocate your feelings. Or your, umm, affections.” He laughed. “What are you talking about?” “Well, what I mean is, I-“ He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice, full of meaning. “Kelsey, I know you reciprocate my feelings. Don’t pretend anymore that you don’t have them.” When did he figure all this out? Maybe when you were kissing him like an idiot, Kells. I’d hoped that I’d fooled him, but he could see right through me. I decided to play dumb and pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about. I waved my hand in the air. “Okay! Yes! I admit that I’m attracted to you.” Who wouldn’t be? “But it won’t work out,” I finished. There, it was out. Ren looked confused. “Why not?” “Because I’m too attracted to you.” “I don’t understand what you’re saying. How can your being attracted to me be a problem? I would think that’s a good thing.” “For normal people…it is,” I stated. “So I’m not normal?” “No. Let me explain it this way. It’s like this…a starving man would gladly eat a radish, right? In fact, a radish would be a feast if that’s all he had. But if he had a buffet in front of him, the radish would never be chosen.” Ren paused a moment. “I don’t get it. What are you saying?” “I’m saying…I’m the radish.” “And what am I? The buffet??” I tried to explain it further. “No…you’re the man. Now…I don’t really want to be the radish. I mean, who does? But I’m grounded enough to know what I am, and I am not a buffet. I mean, you could be having chocolate eclairs, for heaven’s sake.” “But not radishes.” “No.” “What…” Ren paused thoughtfully, “if I like radishes?” “You don’t. You don’t know any better.

He made a noise that sounded like a strangled laugh, and then said: Ah, I like your style. I’ll give you that. You’re not easy to get the upper hand on, are you? Obviously I’m not going to manage it. It’s funny, because you carry on like you’d let me walk all over you, answering my texts at two in the morning, and then telling me you’re in love with me, blah blah blah. But that’s all your way of saying, just try and catch me, because you won’t. And I can see I won’t. You’re not going to let me have it for a minute. Nine times out of ten you’d have someone fooled with the way you go on. They’d be delighted with themselves, thinking they were really the boss of you. Yeah, yeah, but I’m not an idiot. You’re only letting me act badly because it puts you above me, and that’s where you like to be. Above, above. And I don’t take it personally, by the way, I don’t think you’d let anyone near you. Actually, I respect it. You’re looking out for yourself, and I’m sure you have your reasons. I’m sorry I was so harsh on you with what I said, because you were right, I was just trying to hurt you. And I probably did hurt you, big deal. Anyone can hurt anyone if they go out of their way. But then instead of getting mad with me, you go saying I’m welcome to stay over and you still love me and all this. Because you have to be perfect, don’t you? No, you really have a way about you, I must say. And I’m sorry, alright? I won’t be trying to take a jab at you again. Lesson learned. But from now on you don’t need to act like you’re under my thumb, when we both know I’m nowhere near you. Alright? Another long silence fell. Their faces were invisible in darkness. Eventually, in a high and strained voice, straining perhaps for an evenness or lightness it did not attain, she replied: Alright. If I ever do get a hold of you, you won’t need to tell me, he said. I’ll know. But I’m not going to chase too much. I’ll just stay where I am and see if you come to me. Yes, that’s what hunters do with deer, she said. Before they kill them.

Sonnet of Silence I am the loudest when I am silent, My lips are shut yet I speak treasures. Speech without heart is nothing but noise, Listen to my silence, you'll hear the universe. Words spoken with mere lips reach nowhere, For it's the heart that makes words alive. Tell people who you are without saying a word, Speak from your very core, they'll listen alright. I repeat, silent people have the loudest hearts, For when you speak less you get to listen more. The more you listen the more you are heard, The more you hear the more you get to grow. Set the words on fire, let them all turn to ashes. Tell people who you are without all the speeches.

I used to be terrified of my own weakness; if acknowledged it, I thought I would be overwhelmed by it. But I am stronger and braver than that. I am not so easily broken. I am strong enough to realize that it is alright to be fragile, to be less than perfect. Staying connected to that vulnerability, ironically, gives me strength.

Jenny, you are sitting in the back.” He whispers slowly. “Nope, it’s not going to happened.” He licks his lips and moves his head on the side looking into my eyes, daring me to disobey him. It’s on! “Don’t make me repeat myself Jenny.” “I am not getting on that thing, Ernest. It’s a death trap!” “Alright then, we’re going to do this the hard way.” He bends down and lifts me up in his arms. I gasp when he puts me upside down, from this angle I can see his sexy ass and from his angle he can see mine.

I am still vaguely haunted by our hitchhiker’s remark about how he’d “never rode in a convertible before.” Here’s this poor geek living in a world of convertibles zipping past him on the highways all the time, and he’s never even ridden in one. It made me feel like King Farouk. I was tempted to have my attorney pull into the next airport and arrange some kind of simple, common-law contract whereby we could just give the car to this unfortunate bastard. Just say: “Here, sign this and the car’s yours.” Give him the keys and then use the credit card to zap off on a jet to some place like Miami and rent another huge fireapple-red convertible for a drug-addled, top-speed run across the water all the way out to the last stop in Key West … and then trade the car off for a boat. Keep moving. But this manic notion passed quickly. There was no point in getting this harmless kid locked up—and, besides, I had plans for this car. I was looking forward to flashing around Las Vegas in the bugger. Maybe do a bit of serious drag-racing on the Strip: Pull up to that big stoplight in front of the Flamingo and start screaming at the traffic: “Alright, you chickenshit wimps! You pansies! When this goddamn light flips green, I’m gonna stomp down on this thing and blow every one of you gutless punks off the road!” Right. Challenge the bastards on their own turf. Come screeching up to the crosswalk, bucking and skidding with a bottle of rum in one hand and jamming the horn to drown out the music … glazed eyes insanely dilated behind tiny black, gold-rimmed greaser shades, screaming gibberish … a genuinely dangerous drunk, reeking of ether and terminal psychosis. Revving the engine up to a terrible high-pitched chattering whine, waiting for the light to change … How often does a chance like that come around? To jangle the bastards right down to the core of their spleens. Old elephants limp off to the hills to die; old Americans go out to the highway and drive themselves to death with huge cars.

I asked Mr. Thurston to tell me the secret of his success... Thurston had a genuine interest in people. He told me that many magicians would look at the audience and say to themselves, "Well, there is a bunch of suckers out there, a bunch of hicks; I'll fool them alright." But Thurston's method was totally different. He told me that every time he went on stage he said to himself: "I am grateful because these people come to see me. They make it possible for me to make my living in a very agreeable way. I'm going to give them the very best I possibly can." p58

I felt a warm hand touch mine. “Are you okay?” “If you mean am I injured, then the answer is no. If you mean am I ‘okay’ as in am-I-confident-I’m-still-sane, the answer is still no.” Ren frowned. “We have to find a way to get across the chasm.” “You’re certainly welcome to give it a try.” I waved him off and went back to drinking my water. He moved to the edge and peered across, looking speculatively at the distance. Changing back to a tiger, he trotted a few paces back in the direction we had come from, turned, and ran at full speed toward the hole. “Ren, no!” I screamed. He leapt, clearing the hole easily, and landed lightly on his front paws. Then he trotted a short distance away and did the same thing to come back. He landed at my feet and changed back to human form. “Kells, I have an idea.” “Oh, this I’ve got to hear. I just hope you don’t plan on including me in this scheme of yours. Ah. Let me guess. I know. You want to tie a rope to your tail, leap across, tie it off, and then have me pull my body across the rope, right?” He cocked his head as if considering it, and then shook his head. “No, you don’t have the strength to do something like that. Plus, we have no rope and nothing to tie a rope to.” “Right. So what’s the plan?” He held my hands and explained. “What I’m proposing will be much easier. Do you trust me?” I was going to be sick. “I trust you. It’s just-“ I looked into his concerned blue eyes and sighed. “Okay, what do I have to do?” “You saw that I was able to clear the gap pretty well as a tiger, right? So what I need you to do is to stand right at the edge and wait for me. I’ll run to the end of the tunnel, build up speed, and leap as a tiger. At the same time, I want you to jump up and grab me around my neck. I’ll change to a man in midair so that I can hold onto you, and we’ll fall together to the other side.” I snorted noisily and laughed. “You’re kidding, right?” He ignored my skepticism. “We’ll have to time it precisely, and you’ll have to jump too, in the same direction, because if you don’t, I’ll just hit you full power and drive us both over the edge.” “You’re serious? You seriously want me to do this?” “Yes, I’m serious. Now stand here while I make a few practice runs.” “Can’t we just find another corridor or something?” “There aren’t any. This is the right way.” Reluctantly, I stood near the edge and watched him leap back and forth a few times. Observing the rhythm of his running and jumping, I began to grasp the idea of what he wanted me to do. All too quickly Ren was back in front of me again. “I can’t believe you’ve talked me into doing this. Are you sure?” I asked. “Yes, I’m sure. Are you ready?” “No! Give me a minute to mentally write a last will and testament.” “Kells, it’ll be fine.” “Sure it will. Alright, let me take in my surroundings. I want to make sure I can record every minute of this experience in my journal. Of course, that’s probably a moot point because I’m assuming that I’m going to die in the jump anyway.” Ren put his hand on my cheek, looked in my eyes, and said fiercely, “Kelsey, trust me. I will not let you fall.

who's this dub?" "Lawyer." Lawyer? I glance to Al for clarification but he's clearly as bewildered as I am. (argument amongst other fishermen) John heads toward the door, then turns, points to me. "You're alright. Only lawyer I ever seen could keep his yap shut longer than thirty seconds.

Mr. Wonderful was probably taking his sweet time, right?” “No, it was actually my fault this morning. I was busy with…paperwork.” “Oh. Well, that’s alright. Don’t worry about it. What kind of paperwork?” He smiled. “Nothing important.” Mr. Kadam held the door for me, and we walked out into an empty hallway. I was just starting to relax at the elevator doors when I heard a hotel room door close. Ren walked down the hall toward us. He’d purchased new clothes. Of course, he looked wonderful. I took a step back from the elevator and tried to avoid eye contact. Ren wore a brand new pair of dark-indigo, purposely faded, urban-destruction designer jeans. His shirt was long-sleeved, buttoned-down, crisp, oxford-style and was obviously of high quality. It was blue with thin white stripes that matched is eyes perfectly. He’d rolled up the sleeves and left his shirt untucked and open at the collar. It was also an athletic cut, so it fit tightly to his muscular torso, which made me suck in an involuntary breath in appreciation of his male splendor. He looks like a runway model. How in the world am I going to be able to reject that? The world is so unfair. Seriously, it’s like turning Brad Pitt down for a date. The girl who could actually do it should win an award for idiot of the century. I again quickly ran through my list of reasons for not being with Ren and said a few “He’s not for me’s.” The good thing about seeing his mouthwatering self and watching him walk around like a regular person was that it tightened my resolve. Yes. It would be hard because he was so unbelievably gorgeous, but it was now even more obvious to me that we didn’t belong together. As he joined us at the elevator, I shook my head and muttered under my breath, “Figures. The guy is a tiger for three hundred and fifty years and emerges from his curse with expensive taste and keen fashion sense too. Incredible!” Mr. Kadam asked, “What was that, Miss Kelsey?” “Nothing.” Ren raised an eyebrow and smirked. He probably heard me. Stupid tiger hearing. The elevator doors opened. I stepped in and moved to the corner hoping to keep Mr. Kadam between the two of us, but unfortunately, Mr. Kadam wasn’t receiving the silent thoughts I was projecting furiously toward him and remained by the elevator buttons. Ren moved next to me and stood too close. He looked me up and down slowly and gave me a knowing smile. We rode down the elevator in silence. When the doors opened, he stopped me, took the backpack off my shoulder, and threw it over his, leaving me with nothing to carry. He walked ahead next to Mr. Kadam while I trialed along slowly behind, keeping distance between us and a wary eye on his tall frame.

Insomniac's Lullaby It is 3.13am and in milk-tooth slices the moon pokes through blinds and dapples my teenage bedroom alabaster white, cotton ichor of a godless sky planting silk-soft kisses on half-chewed fingertips - and if this is what they mean by purgatory, please tell my mum I'm alright.

Circe, he says, it will be alright. [...] and somehow, I am comforted. He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive.

I recall as a child when I got so hostile that I didn’t know whom to trust anymore, and then I would still act as if everything was alright. I would put that brilliant smile; which people love about me still right away. I am told to have the very beautiful smile, that smile became my signature throughout my life.

How often does it seem that I try to speak the words of not okay, of not alright, only to find they stick to my insides, digging down, burrowing hard within? So instead I wheeze and gasp and smile despite the burning up, the burning alive, oh - I look you in the eye and cry, the tears wetting my cheeks (I am blazing - can you see?) Ash coats my every organ, smoke plumes through my lips to form the lie: "I am fine.

Jeff: I'm saying I don't need a limousine to know who I am, alright? Tim: Right on. You know what? He doesn't need to limo, man. Jeff: I mean, you know, at least I admit I don't know. I know that things are fucked up beyond belief and I know that I have nothing original to say about any of it, alright? I don't have an answer. I don't have a fucking message. Tim: Okay, great. Well, now he's crying. Are you guys happy?

deathAloneness has been my constant companion in life. I lost early the people that I loved: first when my young and unmarried biological mother had to leave me because of outer circumstances. I was adopted by a very loving couple, who could not concieve a child. I have always felt naturally loved by them, and I have never really felt that I was adopted. Instead, I have always felt that I did a little detour to be able to be adopted by my real parents. Then my mother died when I was 15 years old after a long sickness. On her funeral I took the decision to never depend on anybody again. Her death created such a deep pain in me that it was also the death of relationships for me. Then my father died when I was 21 years old – and I was completely alone in the world. This created a basic feeling of being alone and unloved in me, it created early a feeling of independence and self-suffiency in me. It also created a basic feeling of not trusting that I am alright as I am, and of not trusting that life takes care of me. This created such a pain in me that I simply repressed the pain for many years in order to survive. These early meetings with death also created a thirst in me to discover a quality, an inner awareness, that death could not take away. Now I can see that these early painful experiences are a blessing in disguise. It liberated me from relationships. I relate with people, but there is always an aloneness within me. I realize that a seeker of truth needs to accept that he is totally alone. It is not possible to lean on other people like crutches. When we totally accept our aloneness, it becomes a source of love, joy, truth, silence, meditation and wholeness. I shared these experiences with a beloved friend and her thoughtful comment was: “I have my own aloneness.” Aloneness is to be at home in ourselves, to be in contact with our inner source of love, while loneliness is to hanker for other people, to hanker for a source of love outside of ourselves. Aloneness is to come home.

If you want to know for yourself, you must turn inward. Today, people are making serious efforts to know themselves by reading books. I am not against books. If you are reading a book to know about a nation or business or to learn engineering, it is fine. But reading a book to know about yourself is silly. You are here, alive and kicking! It is alright if you are reading a book to get inspired to take a step inward, but if you want to know something, you must look inward. You cannot read a book and know about yourself. After you are dead, if you have lived an interesting life, somebody may read about you, but when you are alive, you should not read about yourself. That is not the way to know yourself. In fact, the more learned you become, the more you realize that you actually know nothing. Only a fool who read half a book thinks he knows everything. Even if you read all the libraries of the world, you will still not know anything. But if you turn inward for just one moment, everything that is worth knowing in the existence can be known.

His (my father's) general belief in life's well-being worked either way. 'Have you ever had it before? You have? It's not going to kill you, then. If you've had the same thing before, you'll be alright in the morning.' My mother couldn't have more profoundly disagreed with that. 'You're such an optimist, dear,' she often said with a sigh. 'You're a good deal of a pessimist, sweetheart.' 'I certainly am.' And yet, I was well aware as I stood between them, he the optimist was the one who was prepared for the worst, and she the pessimist was the daredevil.

Is she alright? That cannot be normal,” I ask the Captain. I am finding my two 'sisters' behavior to be concerning. “Depends on your definition of ‘normal’,” he air quotes ‘normal’, before waving his hand in Cassandria’s face. Cassandria swipes at the Captain’s hand with a shout of surprise. The Captain moves his hand easily beyond reach. Her eyes then widen in confusion as she studies her surroundings. Turning back to the Captain, I point out, “I was hoping you had a definition.” “I have one, but what I would consider 'normal' is different from what most would agree with,” he shrugs.

I am Majikthise!" announced the older one. "And I demand that I am Vroomfondel!" shouted the younger one. Majikthise turned on Vroomfondel. "It's alright," he explained angrily, "you don't need to demand that." "Alright!" bawled Vroomfondel banging on an nearby desk. "I am Vroomfondel, and that is not a demand, that is a solid fact! What we demand is solid facts!" "No we don't!" exclaimed Majikthise in irritation. "That is precisely what we don't demand!" Scarcely pausing for breath, Vroomfondel shouted, "We don't demand solid facts! What we demand is a total absence of solid facts. I demand that I may or may not be Vroomfondel!

Something I'm working on, a possibly helpful spell to cast on yourself in adverse environments... Maybe a self compassion spell that might invite the ancient intelligences in their minute plurality to emerge from the tree line. I am alright in the essenceless stream of becoming I apprehend myself actually dancing with amazing terror while driving the shy and alone animal body itself imagining the breathing maze of dreaming mirrors it dreams itself lost in No one could be expected to do this properly your body in its suchness momentarily in paradise dreaming up all this agonic psychic carnivalia all over again "as the words rain down" like the feathers of birds of paradise that heartbreaking in their naked individuality and that incalculably fine, impossibly necessary to some really friendly abyss you never expected when you were that person sentenced to the futures your bad moods subjugated you to endless hotel hallways the room numbers in no order realizing you will never find yours again and that you must never stop searching laughing like an infant in a bathtub to enjoy the evanescent cartoon pandemonium of awareness while having kinds of relationships We do fine with our sentience for the most part. Thanks anyway. Void yet appearing overthinking sometimes.

Today, I give myself the freedom to be everything I really am, to experience this day as it was my most precious possession. Because it is... Today, I allow myself the liberty to feel through everything I've ever tried to be to make everything alright, realising the only true responsibility I'll ever have is one of me. Today, I give myself permission to breathe this life in its entirety, freeing those closest to me from ever understanding me, freeing myself from ever trying to please and conform. Today, I realise I am a soul on my path, just like everybody else, dancing my dreams into reality anyway I freaking choose. I give myself this freedom and with that, I give it to you. May this be a brimming day.

Did I ever tell you what the definition of insanity is? Insanity is doing the exact... same thing... over and over again expecting... shit to change... That. Is. Crazy. The first time somebody told me that, I dunno, I thought they were bullshitting me, so, I shot him. The thing is... He was right. And then I started seeing, everywhere I looked, everywhere I looked all these pricks doing the exact same thing... over and over and over and over again thinking 'this time is gonna be different' no, no, no please... This time is gonna be different, Hey, do you think I am bullshitting you, do you think I am lying? ha ha ha ha It's okay, man. I'm gonna chill, I'm gonna chill... Alright, the thing is I killed you once already... and it's not like I am crazy. It's like water under the bridge. Did I ever tell you the definition... of insanity?

Dear Daddy, I thought I would drop you a few lines to tell you that all this shit is really doing my head in and I just can’t cope with it anymore. Ma was not going to tell me who I could hang around with and neither could you. It’s alright now because you all got your own way and I don’t need anywhere to live anymore. I am going to commit suicide. Please make sure he he gets locked up because it is his fault you are going to lose me. Thanks for all you help Dad, I don’t know what I would have done without you. I know the pigs were up last night, cause I heard them. It looks like they won’t be sending me into care but they will be sending me to the grave. Thank God. I am too young to handle this, my whole life has been ruined. I really wish I could stay around to look after you Daddy but it would ruin my own life. I hope I did not hurt your feelings. I will miss you and I still love you.

The immateriality of signs is alien to me, as it is to a race of peasants with whom I share an obsessional morality, a sluggishness, a stupid, ancestral belief in the real. In reality, I am one of them. The simulation hypothesis is merely a maximalist position. The seduction hypothesis is merely a formal abstraction. It is the phantom of seduction which obsesses me—as for the rest, I have never managed anything other than to let myself be seduced. And this is quite alright: all the rest is merely destructive, moral passion. The seducing monk dreams of Manichean tension between the sign and the real as the most sublime form of morality. Only from time to time, the earth-shattering, hypothetical union of the two… Even then, the beauty of the violent resolution eludes him. Faith and fury first attack the impossibility of believing; they attack signs. Annihilating the world as sign, in order to make it an object of belief.

Alas, great is my sorrow. Your name is Ah Chen, and when you were born I was not truly pleased. I am a farmer, and a farmer needs strong sons to help with his work, but before a year had passed you had stolen my heart. You grew more teeth, and you grew daily in wisdom, and you said 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' and your pronunciation was perfect. When you were three you would knock at the door and then you would run back and ask, 'Who is it?' When you were four your uncle came to visit and you played the host. Lifting your cup, you said, 'Ching!' and we roared with laughter and you blushed and covered your face with your hands, but I know that you thought yourself very clever. Now they tell me that I must try to forget you, but it is hard to forget you. "You carried a toy basket. You sat at a low stool to eat porridge. You repeated the Great Learning and bowed to Buddha. You played at guessing games, and romped around the house. You were very brave, and when you fell and cut your knee you did not cry because you did not think it was right. When you picked up fruit or rice, you always looked at people's faces to see if it was all right before putting it in your mouth, and you were careful not to tear your clothes. "Ah Chen, do you remember how worried we were when the flood broke our dikes and the sickness killed our pigs? Then the Duke of Ch'in raised our taxes and I was sent to plead with him, and I made him believe that we could not pay out taxes. Peasants who cannot pay taxes are useless to dukes, so he sent his soldiers to destroy our village, and thus it was the foolishness of your father that led to your death. Now you have gone to Hell to be judged, and I know that you must be very frightened, but you must try not to cry or make loud noises because it is not like being at home with your own people. "Ah Chen, do you remember Auntie Yang, the midwife? She was also killed, and she was very fond of you. She had no little girls of her own, so it is alright for you to try and find her, and to offer her your hand and ask her to take care of you. When you come before the Yama Kings, you should clasp your hands together and plead to them: 'I am young and I am innocent. I was born in a poor family, and I was content with scanty meals. I was never wilfully careless of my shoes and my clothing, and I never wasted a grain of rice. If evil spirits bully me, may thou protect me.' You should put it just that way, and I am sure that the Yama Kings will protect you. "Ah Chen, I have soup for you and I will burn paper money for you to use, and the priest is writing down this prayer that I will send to you. If you hear my prayer, will you come to see me in your dreams? If fate so wills that you must yet lead an earthly life, I pray that you will come again to your mother's womb. Meanwhile I will cry, 'Ah Chen, your father is here!' I can but weep for you, and call your name.

Why are you doing this? I don’t want you. Is that the problem? Is your ego so big you can’t handle a woman rejecting you?” “Oh, you want me alright, my sexy little witch. Want me so bad it scares you. Well, I’ve got news for you. It scares the fuck out of me, too. But I don’t care. When the options are settling down with you for life and popping out little demonlings or watching you walk away, I know what I choose.” For a moment, she couldn’t answer, could only gape at him as his words penetrated. Surely, she misunderstood. “What did you say?” “I want you as my mate.” No misunderstanding that time. She tamped down her elation by slapping it with the cold, hard truth. “You’ll hurt me.” “Trust me.” He asked too much. “I’m not the right woman.” “You’re all I want.” She shook her head lest his words weave a spell around her and make her believe. Yet despite all the warnings in her head, hope blossomed and love warmed her. How nice it would be to allow herself to love him. To trust him. Sadness entered his expression at her rejection. “I know it’s hard for you, little witch, but I promise you’ve nothing to fear. Unless the thought of too many orgasms in a row freaks you out.” And that quickly, he changed from pensive male to the one she’d grown to love with the mischievous smile. He lunged. She squealed like a little girl and ran. Not far though. With his ridiculously long stride, he quickly caught her and tossed her over his shoulder. He laughed as she beat at his broad back with her fists. “Save some of that energy for the bedroom because you are not leaving until you admit you care for me.” “I’ll kill you first.” “I like a girl who’s kinky.” “You’re impossible.” “No, but I am horny.” “How are we supposed to catch those souls if we’re fooling around here?” “Some things are more important.” “How can having sex with me be more important than ensuring you don’t burst into flame tomorrow?” “I would let someone beat me with a cat-o-nine too, if you’d just admit you like me.” “I hate you.” “Close. I see we’ll need to work on that.” -Ysabel & Remy

Okay,” I said, looking up to find the gate in the stars. I lifted a hand, only to have it jerked violently down. “What are you doing?” Reth hissed. “I’m making the gate!” “Not that one.” His eyes were wide with—fear? “Why are you so scared of that gate?” He looked to the side, deliberately avoiding staring at the stars. “Because that is . . . that is another part of eternity. It’s not ours.” I frowned. “But I sent the other souls there.” “Yes, and without bodies they were ready to go there. But I am not, nor will I ever be.” I couldn’t help smiling. “Ooh, poor little Reth, are you scared of what happens after you die?” His voice and face were shockingly sincere, his skin pallid and his lips nearly blue. “More than anything. I have no desire to discover that realm of eternity. None of us do, which is why we need that gate. Myself most desperately. Now, please.” I looked back up at the stars, trying to figure out if I was scared of that gate or not. And, strangely enough, I discovered I wasn’t. It was like Lend and I had talked about—no one could say when they were going to die. You did the best with the time you had, filled it with people and things you loved, and hoped that whatever came after was as good or better. I was finally okay with this whole finite mortality thing. “Alright, you big pansy. I’ll figure out the other one.

I recognize magnesite.  From my explosives training years ago.  It’s a source of magnesium.” He muttered, turning the stone over and over in his hand.  “Correct again.  As you increase your Mining skill, you will eventually learn how to convert the raw ore into usable material.  Or you can simply purchase the Refining and Smelting skills.” Max shook his head.  “Assuming I ever make it to a settlement of some kind.” He stared harder at the stone.  “I am going to try something.  You might want to back up.” Stepping well back from the fire himself, he picked up a discarded leaf from one of his firewood sticks and laid it flat on the ground.  Using his thumbnail, he scraped at the magnesite vein inside the rock.  Initially he was very careful and slow, not wanting to create friction, and thus heat, as he scratched.  A few small particles dropped onto the leaf.  Another two minutes of careful scraping, and he had accumulated a tiny pile of the mineral, about the size of a pea.  Setting the stone down, he carefully wrapped the leaf around the magnesite dust. “Alright, here goes nothing.” He took another step back from the fire, then gently tossed the leaf bundle into it.  There was a brief delay, then a bright white flash as the heat reached the magnesite dust and a molten flame shot upward for about two seconds. Skill level increase!  Your Mining skill has increased by +1! Max uttered is best evil overlord laugh.  “Muah ha ha!

Dear Shift in the storm, This is abnormal, but I love how the clouds are shifting in my life. I noticed the lens flare as the clouds drift away. I used to think I was better off because the storm was the storyteller of my life, and I thought it was here to stay. Now that the clouds are finally drifting away, the scattered light is awaking my soul to a brighter day. I use to be so lost, but Nurse Hope's kindness is helping me find my way. Her actions have made me realize that love doesn’t cost a thing and that I want more out of life. I know that it is possible. Dear shift in the storm, would you take my complex memories with you? Therefore, curiosity will not enable me to continue to think of the ‘what-ifs.' If you can, would you do me the honor of shrinking my and Kace's memories? Could you void them as they shrink in the fading light? There’s no need to expand what we are trying to do away with. May you melt our frozen tears? If not, could you please make them invincible in the light? Could Kace and I become intangible as our old life disappears in the shift of the storm? We’ve had more than our share of fragments—and we are ready to be set free. For far too long, we’ve reached our breaking point. Dear shift in the storm, could you wash away our fears and wash us whole—as we step into our new life? Let there be no more secrets and lies, for Kace and I have endured enough. We are ready to shed our skin, and we are most certainly ready for our new beginning. I feel the change because the tear stains on my face have left their footprints for me to walk into a new world. During this shift, I am going to be still because I know when the storm is over that I am going to be alright. I no longer have to be selfish for all the wrong reasons.

ARTHUR: Ford, I don’t know if this sounds like a silly question, but what am I doing here? FORD: Well, you know that. I rescued you from the Earth. ARTHUR: And what has happened to the Earth? FORD: It’s been disintegrated. ARTHUR: Has it? FORD: Yes, it just boiled away into space. ARTHUR: Look. I’m a bit upset about that. FORD: Yes, I can understand. But there are plenty more Earths just like it. ARTHUR: Are you going to explain that? Or would it save time if I just went mad now? FORD: Keep looking at the book. ARTHUR: What? FORD: “Don’t Panic”. ARTHUR: I’m looking. FORD: Alright. The universe we exist in is just one of a multiplicity of parallel universes which co-exist in the same space but on different matter wavelengths, and in millions of them the Earth is still alive and throbbing much as you remember—or very similar at least—because every possible variation of the Earth also exists. ARTHUR: Variation? I don’t understand. You mean like a world where Hitler won the war? FORD: Yes. Or a world in which Shakespeare wrote pornography, made a lot more money and got a knighthood. They all exist. Some of course with only the minutest variations. For instance, one parallel universe must contain a world which is utterly identical to yours except that one small tree somewhere in the Amazon basin has an extra leaf. ARTHUR: So one could quite happily live on that world without knowing the difference? FORD: Yes, more or less. Of course it wouldn’t be quite like home with that extra leaf… ARTHUR: Well, it’s hardly going to notice. FORD: No, probably not for a while. It would be a few years before you really became strongly aware that something was off balance somewhere. Then you’d start looking for it and you’d probably end up going mad because you’d never be able to find it. ARTHUR: So what do I do? FORD: You come along with me and have a good time. You’ll need to have this fish in your ear. ARTHUR: I beg your pardon? — Pilot radio script.

What I have been doing lately from my WIP "In Hiding" is available on my website. *Strong language warning* Wayne sat in the hygienic emergency room trying to ignore the bitch of a headache that began radiating at the back of his skull. His worn jeans, a blood-stained t-shirt, and his makeshift bandage sat on a nearby chair. The hysteria created by his appearance in the small hospital ward had died down. A local cop greeted him as soon as he was escorted to the examination room. The conversation was brief, once he revealed he was a bail enforcer the topic changed from investigation to shooting the bull. The experienced officer shook his hand before leaving then joked he hoped this would be their only encounter. The ER doc was a woman about his age. Already the years of long hours, rotating shifts and the rarity of a personal life showed on her face. Her eyelids were pink-rimmed, her complexion sallow; all were earmarks of the effect of long-term exhaustion. Wayne knew it all too well as he rubbed his knuckle against his own grainy eyes. Despite this, she attended to him with an upbeat demeanor and even slid in some ribbing at his expense. He was defenseless, once the adrenaline dropped off Wayne felt drained. He accepted her volleys without a response. All he mustered was a smile and occasional nod as she stitched him up. Across the room, his cell toned, after the brief display of the number a woman’s image filled the screen. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Shit.” He intends for his exclamation to remain ignored, having caught it the doctor glanced his direction with a smile. Without invitation, she retrieved his phone handing it to him without comment. Wayne noted the raised eyebrow she failed to hide. The phone toned again as he glanced at the flat image on the device. The woman’s likeness was smiling brightly, her blue eyes dancing. Just looking at her eased the pain in his head. He swiped the screen and connected the call as the doctor finished taping his injury. Using his free uninjured arm, he held the phone away from him slightly, utilizing the speaker option. “Hey Baby.” “What the hell, Wayne!” Her voice filled the small area, in his peripheral vision he saw the doc smirk. Turning his head, he addressed the caller. “Babe, I was getting ready to call.” The excuse sounded lame, even to him. “Why the hell do I have to hear about this secondhand?” Wayne placed the phone to his chest, loudly he exclaimed; “F***!” The ER doc touched his arm, “I will give you privacy.” Wayne gave her a grateful nod. With a snatch, she grabbed the corner of the thin curtain suspended from the ceiling and pulled it close. Alone again, he refocused on the call. The woman on the other end had continued in her tirade without him. When he rejoined the call mid-rant, she was issuing him a heartfelt ass-chewing. “...bullshit Wayne that I have to hear about this from my cousin. We’ve talked about this!” “Honey...” She interrupts him before he can explain himself. “So what the hell happened?” Wisely he waited for silence to indicate it was his turn to speak. “Lou, Honey first I am sorry. You know I never meant to upset you. I am alright; it is just a flesh wound.” As he speaks, a sharp pain radiates across his side. Gritting his teeth, Wayne vows to continue without having the radiating pain affect his voice. “I didn’t want you to worry Honey; you know calling Cooper first is just business.” Silence. The woman miles away grits her teeth as she angrily brushes away her tears. Seated at the simple dining table, she takes a napkin from the center and dabs at her eyes. Mentally she reminds herself of her promise that she was done crying over this man. She takes an unsteady breath as she returns her attention to the call. “Lou, you still there?” There is something in his voice, the tender desperation he allows only her to see. Furrowing her brow she closes her eyes, an errant tear coursed down her cheek.

The morning was already setting up to be hectic, and Jon thanked his lucky stars that Jessie was so good at his job and a constant spark-plug of activity. Oh god, you did not just think Jessie was a spark-plug? You really are getting old. Next thing you know you’ll being saying whipper-snappers and break a hip getting out of bed. He shook his head. I guess I had a good run. Jessie quickly re-entered the office. “Alright. Elisabeth has her caffeine fix and said she’ll be down to say goodbye in a few. So let’s get this bad boy going for the week. Travel plans are done for next month and meetings for the week are in you planner so I’m assuming they’ll be no more complaining about flying coach class this time?” Jessie gave a sly wink and kept organizing his desk. “Yes. And for that I thank you for that my color-coding, hyper computer organized planner. We have to make sure the next presentation for Chicago is ready in three weeks; the storyboards for the new campaign ideas have to be finished by Tuesday the 16th so we can get them shipped before I head out there.” “And let’s not forget our important morning ritual.” Jon looked at Jessie with a question about to form before the realization hit him. His expression changed from confused to stern. “No cat videos Jessie. I swear. Enough of the cat videos.” “C’mon. You know you love them and they brighten your dour moods. Look at this one.” Jessie turned his screen and Jon begrudgingly looked at the cute little puppy and kitten with captions over them. “How can you not love this?” Jessie smiled. “The cute little kitty tells the playful puppy not to do it and yet the puppy bonks the little kitty on the head with his little puppy paw. “Boop Boop.” And then the cat swipes at the puppy and it falls off the bed. You know this is internet gold.” Jon smiled. “Can we get back to work?” Jessie nodded and then walked up to Jon - without hesitating, he bonked him lightly on the head. “Boop.” He paused and added, “I think this puppy is onto something.” Jessie grinned ear to ear still. “I pledge, from now on if something makes me as happy as this bonking picture I’m just going to say Boop boop.” Jon stood stone-faced but a second later, could not stop his smile. “I am not amused.” Jon shook the smile away. “Now, if you’re done boop booping me, there is something else I want to talk with you about.” Jessie looked at Jon with a quizzical smile. “Not to blow my own horn but I have a new and brilliant thought my young apprentice.” Jessie opened his mouth to comment on the blowing horn, but Jon held up his hand and cut him off. “Stop it.” Jessie closed his mouth and swallowed the sexual innuendo-laced comment he had forming on the tip of his tongue.

Alright, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade - make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager. Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons. Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons. I'm going to to get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

Steve, are you alright. I have asked for tomorrow because of you. Your health is not good,” said Notch. “My health is Ok. I get blackouts once in a while, but other than that I am fine. I am ready to go. We can begin right now. If we wait too long, my health may worsen,” said Steve. “Alright, as you think appropriate. We will begin right away. Take all your necessary belongings,” said Notch.

Marie smiled. “I am glad to help in whatever way I can. And I am trying hard not to feel resentful for being replaced.” Cinderella laughed. “He could not replace you. Not ever. You will always be my closest, dearest friend, Marie.” Marie arrogantly tilted her head up as she looked to Friedrich. “Alright, I admit defeat,” Friedrich said

All those songs I used to pretend to understand, all the angsty, heartbroken songs I had heard all my life, they suddenly made so much more sense. "Well, then she probably needs a giant coffee, a huge box of your creations, and some time to nurse her feelings in private, don't you think?" Brantley Dane, local hero, saves girl from sure death brought on by sheer mortification. That'd be his headline. "Come on, sweetheart," he said, moving behind me, casually touching my hip in the process, and going behind counter. "What's your poison? Judging by the situation, I am thinking something cold, mocha or caramel filled and absolutely towering with full fat whipped cream." That was exactly what I wanted. But, broken heart aside, I knew I couldn't let myself drown in sweets. Gaining twenty pounds wasn't going to help anything. There was absolutely no enthusiasm in my voice when I said, "Ah, actually, can I have a large black coffee with one sugar please?" "Not that I'm not turned on as all fuck by a woman who appreciates black coffee," he started, making me jerk back suddenly at the bluntness of that comment and the dose of profanity I wasn't accustomed to hearing in my sleepy hometown. "But if you're only one day into a break-up, you're allowed to have some full fat chocolate concoction to indulge a bit. I promise from here on out I won't make you anything even half as food-gasm-ing as this." He leaned across the counter, getting close enough that I could see golden flecks in his warm brown eyes. "Honey, not even if you beg," he added and, if I wasn't mistaken, there was absolutely some kind of sexually-charged edge to his words. "Say yes," he added, lips tipping up at one corner. "Alright, yes," I agreed, knowing I would love every last drop of whatever he made me and likely punish myself with an extra long run for it too. "Good girl," he said as he turned away. And there was not, was absolutely not some weird fluttering feeling in my belly at that. Nope. That would be completely insane. "Okay, I got you one of everything!" my mother said, coming up beside me and pressing the box into my hands. She even tied it with her signature (and expensive, something I had tried to talk her out of many times over the years when she was struggling financially) satin bow. I smiled at her, knowing that sometimes, there was nothing liked baked goods from your mother after a hard day. I was just lucky enough to have a mother who was a pastry chef. "Thanks, Mom," I said, the words heavy. I wasn't just thanking her for the sweets, but for letting me come home, for not asking questions, for not making it seem like even the slightest inconvenience. She gave me a smile that said she knew exactly what I meant. "You have nothing to thank me for." She meant that too. Coming from a family that, when they found out she was knocked up as a teen, had kicked her out and disowned her, she made it clear all my life that she was always there, no matter what I did with my life, no matter how high I soared, or how low I crashed. Her arms, her heart, and her door were always open for me. "Alright. A large mocha frappe with full fat milk, full fat whipped cream, and both a mocha and caramel drizzle. It's practically dessert masked as coffee," Brantley said, making my attention snap to where he was pushing what was an obnoxiously large frappe with whipped cream that was towering out of the dome that the pink and sage straw stuck out of. "Don't even think about it, sweetheart," he said, shaking his head as I reached for my wallet. "Thank you," I smiled, and found that it was a genuine one as I reached for it and, in a move that was maybe not brilliant on my part, took a sip. And proceeded to let out an almost porn-star worthy groan of pure, delicious pleasure. Judging by the way Brant's smile went a little wicked, his thoughts ran along the same lines as well.

I smile, comforted by the knowledge that I am not alone. That I haven't been left behind. That when everyone else moves on, when they find new lives and loves and joys, it just might be alright to stay where you are, as long as there's someone standing next to you, holding your hand, telling you it will be okay.

EVISCERATED   From the time that it begin Full of love’s evil twin I am eviscerated Such finality   Desecration of the Adaptation from a Simulation of the Vaccination Of mankind   You tell me you don’t have a care Why won’t I die? Take yourself the fuck out of here Now go a cry   Heed yourself, you’re self destructive Crying to sleep Take handfuls of wicked pills It’ll be alright   Reputation shattered Profanation gathered Incantation slathered Impregnation Depression   You are feeling lost and so alone Losing your head Run the razor across the wrist You are cold and Dead - Dead - Dead - Dead   Find a place inside your heart Where you can find Solace from those past torments You don’t have to die   Exhumation of the Amputation from the Domination inside Fabrication building Transformation Of your mind   Until the time that it ends Full of love’s evil twin We’re eviscerated Such finality

the journalist asked Zachariadis why he gave an anti-British speech to a crowd of 50,000 left-wing Greeks in Thessaloniki: “Is it because you want the British to leave Greece?” Zachariadis replied, “Yes,” and Springe commented: “Are you aware of the consequences?” To which the communist leader said: “I am aware that a civil war, to which we are aspiring, shall follow. It will be a question of two months. After that everything will be alright.”73

At least I know you are American.” Crap! “What? I bloody am not…mate.” “That could be the worst Australian accent I have ever heard.” “That’s because…I’m British. Jolly good. Pip, pip! Long live the queen!” He flicked me an amused glance and kept tapping keys. “Not British either.” “Alright, fine, I’m a lass from Ireland. Top of the morning, boyo!” “So you are not in Australia, England or Ireland. Thank you.

What a vibe! Do you wanna walk with me? I’m headed this way.” “No,” said Andrei. “But thank you.” David shifted his arms and laughed. He did not expect rejection. David considered himself friendly and a young man of great energy and there could be no possible reason why anybody should deny his invitation. “Oh, why not?” “David...” Andrei started on an effortless admission. The comet knew exactly how he felt and did not measure his blow. It was fair this way, so he locked his eyes kindly on David and shared: “I do not want to walk with you. There’s nothing wrong with that. We don’t need to be friends. And this is okay.” “Oh. Did I...say something bad earlier?” “Mate, it’s just who you are. And who I am. I don’t want to pretend that it’s pleasant to be with you.” “Dude, that really hurts me that you said that, Andrei.” “What can we do, honestly, David? Lie instead? That’s how it is. It can’t be changed. It’s nothing on you—just the both of us combined. Not every person we meet is right for us. If we treat everyone like friends, nothing is earned, you know what I mean?” “Alright, dude. Whatever. That’s totally your choice, so all good. But that literally makes no sense, so.” Andrei looked down the road, which he owed, and not David, and so withdrew. “Then let me make no sense. Cheers. Good luck with everything.

What a vibe! Do you wanna walk with me? I’m headed this way.” “No,” said Andrei. “But thank you.” David shifted his arms and laughed. He did not expect rejection. David considered himself friendly and a young man of great energy and there could be no possible reason why anybody should deny his invitation. “Oh, why not?” “David...” Andrei started on an effortless admission. The comet knew exactly how he felt and did not measure his blow. It was fair this way, so he locked his eyes kindly on David and shared: “I do not want to walk with you. There’s nothing wrong with that. We don’t need to be friends. And this is okay.” “Oh. Did I...say something bad earlier?” “Mate, it’s just who you are. And who I am. I don’t want to pretend that it’s pleasant to be with you.” “Dude, that really hurts me that you said that, Andrei.” “What can we do, honestly, David? Lie instead? That’s how it is. It can’t be changed. It’s nothing on you—just the both of us combined Not every person we meet is right for us. If we treat everyone like friends, nothing is earned, you know what I mean?” “Alright, dude. Whatever. That’s totally your choice, so all good. But that literally makes no sense, so.” Andrei looked down the road, which he owed, and not David, and so withdrew. “Then let me make no sense. Cheers. Good luck with everything.

Get a Real Profession Clients are often confused when I recommend they not only practice minimalism, but pursue a high paying career such as engineering or the trades.  They say, “Well, if I don't need the money, why am I going to school or pursuing such a hard profession?”  And the answer is “Because it saves time.” Understand there's nothing wrong with choosing a simpler life where you don't go to college, you work a normal, everyday job, make your $30,000 a year and go home.  It's perfectly alright and I know many happy bartenders and baristas who do that.  But they all have to work 40 hours a week.  And since work is the single largest expenditure of your time, if you can cut the number of hours you need to work, you do the number one thing you can do to increase your freedom. I have a colleague who has a degree in Electrical Engineering.  He studied rigorously in college, worked hard in his 20's and by his 30's was charging $300/hr minimum to do client work.  And whereas most people would load up on hours and try to make as much money as possible, he instead chose to work 4 hours a week, pay off his house early, read at coffee cafes, and listen to music at home.  He only buys used cars, eats at home, and purchases all of his clothes at Goodwill.  It's not a luxurious life, but it's a very pleasant and easy one.  He is the reason why you get a real profession.  Because, yes, going to college for a hard subject is time consuming.  And yes, cutting your teeth during your 20's and 30's also consumes a lot of time.  But soon enough the value of one hour of your labor is so high, you can work 3-4 of them per week and comfortably support a minimalist lifestyle.  This frugality plus his high hourly wage makes him the freest person I know, and can make you equally free as well. Though I'm not sure where he is now....he usually winters in Thailand to avoid the snow.

Like a glamorous, brutal father, he influenced my Wraeththu shaping, is perhaps responsible for what I am now. I feared him, I supplicated at his feet. OK, I was sixteen, for God’s sake! That’s forgiveable, isn’t it? I want to see him again so he’ll know I made it alright (comparatively) without him. It might not be part of the plan-it might be the ultimate self-indulgence-but it’s something I have to do.

There was a lottery every year in Solaria and the ten winners were permitted to visit the moon. You had to be one lucky son of a bitch to get a ticket and it didn’t matter if you were the richest asshole in the world, AKA me, you couldn’t buy your way into it. I’d tried to bribe the Fae who ran the expeditions a thousand times. Written him countless letters, visited him (alright stalked him and knocked on his door at four am – twice) and fucking begged him to give me a ticket.

Logan put a hand on his shoulder. 'Jezal, wait. Wait. You know me.' 'Of course. I like to think so.' 'Alright. Tell me something, then. Am I..." He struggled to find the right words. 'Am I... an evil man?' 'You?' Jezal stared at him confused. 'You're the best man I know.

Just then, Netaji enquired from me in Hindustani: “Aap ko zada to nahin lagi?” (Hope you have not been hurt badly.) I replied, “I feel that I will be alright.” About himself, he said that he felt that he would not survive. I replied, “Oh! God will spare you. I am sure you will be alright.” He said, “No, don’t think so.” He used these words: “When you go back to the country, tell the people that up to the last I have been fighting for the liberation of my country; they should continue to struggle, and I am sure India will be free before long. Nobody can keep India in bondage now.” [14]

I place a mask on everyday showing I'm alright but am I?

I need to find out who she is,” he told Javier as he entered the shower room with the rest of the team. “If they had to take her out on a stretcher, then chances are someone knows her name.” “Good for you, my friend, for not giving up in the face of obvious adversity. And because I am such a good friend, I shall come with you when you visit her so I might laugh when the female retaliates against you for messing up her face.” Javier flew backward with the force of the punch Ethan laid on him. Rubbing his jaw, his friend glared up at him. “That wasn’t very nice.” Ethan snarled. “Maybe if you hadn’t thrown the ball so damned hard, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. I’m glad you find my situation so g**damned funny.” Jumping to his feet, Javier raised his fists. “Alright, my friend. Let’s go. You obviously need to work off some tension, might as well do it now. Think of your coming beating as a courting favor because I’m going to give you some black eyes to match those of your mate.” “I’d like to see you try.” With a feral grin, Ethan lumbered at his friend, paws swinging as the other players in the shower room scattered. Old habits died hard, and when it came to working out frustration, the easiest route still involved violence. Ethan refused to view it as stalling out of fear. Kodiak bears feared nothing, especially not one fated female. But just in case, perhaps once he de-stressed, he would pick up flowers, or buy a whole damned floral shop for her.

Oh, Carter. What am I going to do with you?” “Love me?” “Uh … no.” I laughed at his playfully hurt expression, “Nice try though.” When our laughter quieted, I said in a soft voice, “He really is amazing Carter.” “I know.” The corner of his mouth tilted up in a sad smile, “I wish it were me Blaze. I’ll always wish it was me instead of him. But I know he’s good for you and your baby.” “Babies.” “What? You’re pregnant again?” His face was pained through his smile for me, “Well damn. I guess I really don’t have a shot with you now.” I knew he was joking, but I stayed serious, “You need to find someone who is good for you too. I know she’s out there somewhere.” “But all I see is you. For the last three years, all I’ve seen was you Blaze.” “You have to stop. You need to know that it’s never going to happen between us, and start living your life for you. And not a life where you wait for something to separate Brandon and me, because that will never happen. Get out there, date some girls, and find the one that was meant for you. I do love you Carter, but it’s never been the way you want it. So find someone that you love, and loves you the way Brandon and I love each other.” “Maybe one day I will.” He said doubtfully. “I hope you do.” I yawned and got off the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around me, “Now get out of my house so I can go back to sleep with my husband or I’ll kick your ass.” “Puh-lease. Preggos aren’t supposed to kick ass. Isn’t it bad for the baby or something?” “Well fine, then I’ll let Brandon do it.” “Alright,

Cool. I know an awesome spot called Henry’s. They have the absolute best beer selections and the wings are great. They also have darts and pool.” Furi stopped talking when he noticed Syn looking a little pale. “Hey, what’s up?” “Uh, nothing.” They were in Syn’s old faithful truck and Furi sat silently watching the man next to him. “We going or what?” Furi narrowed his eyes, staring at the side of Syn’s face. His jaw was clenched and his neck was flushed. What the hell? “Yeah. Let’s go.” “Okay.” Syn thought he was going to be sick. It was just his goddamn luck that Furi would suggest the one place where half the department liked to hang out. Hell, even his Lieutenants frequented this place. It would be cruel to subject Furi to Day’s inappropriateness so soon. Syn wasn’t necessarily afraid of being with a man; he just wasn’t the type to make his personal life public. Or am I scared? Fuck. Syn didn’t think Furi would go for keeping them a secret. The man had made that quite clear when they were in the alley. Syn gripped the steering wheel and willed his foot to press the accelerator. Maybe … just maybe, there wouldn’t be anyone familiar there. Syn drove under the speed limit and felt Furious’ probing eyes on the side of his face. He tried to smile and keep his jaw from showing his nervous tick. Despite his efforts, they got there in what felt like record time. Furious got out and waited for Syn to slowly make his way toward the entrance. “Are you sure everything is alright?” Furious asked, annoyed. “I’m good. Really. Good. Perfect,” Syn said, mentally kicking himself for sounding like an idiot. Furi took his hand in his and it took every ounce of Syn's willpower not to pull his hand back. Of course he’d be into PDA. Furious pulled open the door and walked in as if he hadn’t a care in the world. It was almost nine p.m. and the though it wasn’t packed, there were quite a few people there. Syn tried not to look around, keeping his eyes on the back of Furious’ head as he led them to a booth; thankfully located in the back of the bar, where it was a little bit darker. Syn made sure to sit so he was facing the door while Furi sat opposite of him. Furi didn’t speak. He picked up one of the menus and started to look through it. “First time out with a man?” Syn's head snapped his up from hiding behind his menu. “Uh. Yeah, but ya know.” “No, I don’t know,” Furi answered quickly. “If you didn’t want to come out, why didn’t you just say so? You look like you're about to pull a disguise out of your coat. Or do you plan to just stay hidden behind your menu all fucking evening?” “Furious.” “Although that’s going to make eating really difficult. Should I be prepared for you to fake a stomach ache?” “Enough,” Syn barked, Furious’ dark eyes widening at his tone. “Look, cut me some slack alright? I am not new to dating men. I’m new to dating: period. Just about all of my adult life I’ve focused on being a cop, a damn good cop. I had little time for anything else in my life including dates. Dating takes time and patience, two things I didn't have. I was prepared to accept being alone the rest of my life until I saw you. I wanted you, and I was more than willing to take the time and effort to be with you. So forgive me if I don’t do everything exactly right on our first date.” “I’m not expecting you to. I haven’t dated in years myself. But one thing I’m not concerned about is being ashamed.” Furi looked Syn dead in the eye. Syn didn’t have a chance to respond, the waitress came to set a pail of peanuts on the table. Speaking in a cheerful voice: “What can I get you guys to drink?

Azania, nodding, started as her gaze fell upon his neck. “Yarimda, are you alright?” “Never better, my dear,” she said. “I love hearing you and Dragon speak. Hands down, that was one of the best conversations I have ever eavesdropped upon in my nine and a half decades. Believe me, keyholes and my right ear used to be extremely well acquainted. It gives me hope for both races, Dragon and Human, and peace for when I pass on, knowing that two creatures of integrity will be stirring up trouble from one end of the continent to the other.

You always have to be a clever clogs, don't you Shakespeare,' Reg said. 'It's not difficult with you for company,' Donald replied, loftily. 'Spoilt ponce,' Reg retorted. 'Troglodyte.' 'What the fuck is one of those?' 'A primitive creature,' Donald said. 'Bloody primitive am I? We'll see how bloody primitive I am when I bash your face in,' Reg growled. Donald shook his head, a faint smile showing on his narrow lips. 'Alright, pack it in yow two,' Fred said. 'If yow want to fight, go and do it where none of us have to hear yow.' 'Bloody troglodyte, fancy calling someone that,' Reg muttered.

Baby, I’m sorry for all the men who abandoned you when they should’ve protected you. And I’m sorry for all the men who made you believe that protective men only existed in books.” I pinned her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “But make no mistake, I’m not sorry for the kind of man I am nor for the decision I’ve made. You’re in danger, and I damned well am going to do everything in my power to protect you, alright?

Am I alright? Well no, at least not when I wrote the story. But yes, I am glorious now. It's almost like writing a book back in 1964 and it gets placed on a shelf for twenty years, but when I've picked it up and dusted it off, it's like I've just woken to Christmas morning as I excitedly read each page. Glorious, I tell you!

Alright, so I just spent an hour on the ratings clicking 5 stars and I am not even 15% of the way through the books I have on my phone...never mind my book shelves, but I had to stop for the night since it is 2am...

It's for casting out the inner fascist creep. Hopefully you'll never need it. NoPassaran I am alright in the essenceless stream of becoming I apprehend myself actually dancing with amazing terror while driving the shy and alone animal body itself imagining the breathing maze of dreaming mirrors it dreams itself lost in No one could be expected to do this properly your body in its wabi sabi suchness momentarily in paradise dreaming up all this agonic psychic carnivalia all over again "as the words rain down" like the feathers of birds of paradise that heartbreaking in their naked individuality and that incalculably fine, impossibly necessary to some really friendly abyss you never expected when you were that person sentenced to the holographic futures bad moods passing through subjugated you to endless hotel hallways the room numbers in no order realizing you will never find yours again and that you must never stop searching laughing like an infant in a bathtub to enjoy the evanescent cartoon pandemonium of awareness while having kinds of relationships We do fine with our sentience for the most part. Thanks anyway. Void yet appearing overthinking sometimes.

With Love from Your Mother A letter to a beloved child I birthed and looked after you Worked hard to raise you up I never had my own time You were my priority I had to give you security And the assurance that I am there For you, I wanted what was best For me, everything was all about you Now that you are older I pray your life gets better So, I am writing you this letter To tell you it does not matter What happened in the past Your future looks bright Things may not seem alright As I am not there Child, I am only here Because my days on Earth came to an end But, like an Angel in Heaven I will hold your hand Yes, I will cheer you on Declare your blessings And countless breakthroughs With love, your loving Mother

NIGEL. Alright, Comrade Semyenov. Make your case. What, in your "expert" opinion, makes this manuscript a fraud? IGOR. I could give you any number of reasons, from the red being wrong to the paper being too thin. Or point out the fact that no one would sell a Rembrandt the size of that wall before a scrap of manuscript no bigger than this. But perhaps most compelling is that it is almost midnight and I am just as eager as anyone else to get out of this place, and I would not throw away such an opportunity just to start an argument about counterfeits with you! NIGEL. Very well. You've convinced me.

Take it as a sign that it is alright to be alive as I am, just as I am, and to keep trying.

Heroin allows me to suspend the perpetual preparation for battle that goes on in my head. I am frequently in a state of hypervigilance in an effort to prevent or minimize the damage caused by daily living in my own skin. When heroin binds to mu (μ) opioid receptors in my brain, I “lay down my burden” as well as “my sword and shield,” just as described in the Negro spiritual “Down by the Riverside.” The world is alright with me. I’m good. I’m refreshed. I’m prepared to face another day, another faculty meeting or obligatory function. All parties benefit.

There’s this quote I’ve seen,” offers artist Lisa Myers Bulmash, forty-five when we speak, who lives in Washington State. “It says something like, ‘The world will tell you who you are, until you tell the world who you are.’ That includes people you think know you well. We cannot be seen as individuals with our own interior lives and motivations if others are always guessing—usually wrongly—at what makes us who we are.”52 Forty-seven-year-old Nichelle Hayes agrees: “I think [Black women] need to hear that we’re okay. We have what we need. We don’t have to change. That is not to say that we shouldn’t be on a path of self-improvement. Everyone should. But it’s not affirming or helpful to think, ‘I’m not right as I am.’”53

Much of my work may go over your head, that's alright - return after a few years. Barring my first ten or so straightforward works, different parts of my vast interdisciplinary oeuvre would make sense at different stages of mental development, both of the individual and the species. Therefore, if something doesn't make sense to you at the moment, don't rush - live your life, and return after some years. But mark you, still many things might not make sense even when you are old and frail - it doesn't mean you have failed me, it means you've done your bit to realize me, now it's time for the next generation to pick up where you've left off. If you figure out everything there is to know about the sun, there'll be nothing left for the future generations to explore. And remember, I am just the portal, cosmos is the writer.

I am alone', she said, her chin in her hands and her elbows on the sill. 'I am quite alone, like I enjoy it. Now I can think for there's no one to provoke me here. Not in my room. No one to tell me what I ought to do because I'm a Lady. Oh no. I do just what I like here. Fuchsia is quite alright here. None of them knows where I go to. Flay doesn't know. Father doesn't know. Mother doesn't know. None of them knows. Even Nannie doesn't know. Only I know. I know where I go, I go here. This is where I go.

lately it feels like, “i am so sorry.” “i am thinking of you.” “i hope you are safe and alright.” are the only words that i write. there is a heaviness with each message and call. and i am constantly wondering when i will get through this all. i find myself crawling into spaces that feel safe, and shutting out the world. but then feeling guilty for thinking i can just turn it all off and push it away. i do not know what tomorrow holds, but i am taking it day by day. and i think that is more than ok.

lately it feels like, “i am so sorry.” “i am thinking of you.” “i hope you are safe and alright.” are the only words that i write. there is a heaviness with each message and call.

I think I wasted it. The time in my life when I was meant to be carefree. Here, now, I am praying to be anesthetized. To either go completely numb, or to feel more than only the decimating weight of most everything. I am strong, but strength fades. I've used it all up. I can no longer bear to feel like I must fight for every single moment of rest and peace. Of joy and hope. I wake up exhausted because, even asleep, I am tormented by my dreams. By these fictitious memories of you. Every morning, I wake up aching. As if I'd been kicked in the gut. One can only fight it for so long. Anyone would bruise. No matter how determined you are to be strong, to be alright, to hold yourself together. Anyone would ache. No matter how hard you fight it, you will spend your day with your pain. As it follows you around, like a constant reminder. As if you could forget. Anyone would grow tired.

Okay, my dear, everything is okay I am with you and everything will be alright. I know how weary you've grown but it's time to lay it all down. Come here come into my arms let my fingers remind you that you are safe and my lips remind you that you are loved and let's forget about it all. Let me take you away lay your head back against my chest let me take you somewhere better somewhere that deserves you.