"Though I have an abundance of activity, I feel like I'm going through the motions. The winds howl overhead, calling to me in a language I can't understand... And through it all, my favorite flowers are still blooming."
A post late by almost two weeks.
"My life is a mandala. I am not a bloom of every day, constant, unchanging, and predictable. No, I operate on a much more questionable almanac of hibernations... I must shed this skin, and shape shift, and sail into a new ripple of dawn."
"I suddenly saw how almost everything great I've accomplished wasn't entirely my own. These victories were always influenced by how others would see me, and, more importantly, by how I was mistreated, by how I was hurt... I'm not sure if mistreatment should be motivation for beauty."