Thursday, September 18, 2008

Having found myself in a forest made entirely of sharp edges, I am fairly certain that the only option is to avail myself of these edges and roughen up my tender skin, encourage calluses on everything that is soft. We can be content for now with hardening ourselves against the promise of whatever is on the other side of these woods, no matter how pliable others might like us to be. At some point you have to learn to protect what others may try to slide under and damage. We can't forever be made out of cotton candy and T S Eliot poems because eventually it always starts to rain.

There are roots, you know, and then there are branches. But mostly there is the space in between. Sometimes you show up expecting to ride a bull and find yourself hiding in a barrel. There are always other days.

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