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catch you later
Karleigh
"I’ve found that growing up means being honest. About what I want. What I need. What I feel. Who I am." // Epiphany.
"do you remember the first time you were called annoying?
how your breath stopped short in your chest
the way the light drained from your eyes, though you knew your cheeks were ablaze
the way your throat tightened as you tried to form an argument that got lost on your tongue.
your eyes never left the floor that day.
you were 13.
you’re 20 now, and i still see the light fade from your eyes when you talk about your interests for “too long,”
apologies littering every other sentence,
words trailing off a cliff you haven’t jumped from in 7 years.
i could listen to you forever, though i know speaking for more than 3 uninterrupted minutes makes you anxious.
all i want you to know is that you deserve to be heard
for 3 minutes
for 10 minutes
for 2 hours
forever.
there will be people who cannot handle your grace, your beauty, your wisdom, your heart;catch you later,
mostly because they can’t handle their own.
but you will never be
and have never been
“too much.”
"
www.mypapercrush.com |
"I asked a six year old what my movie should be about, and this is what he told me."
Person One: "I just want to quit school and go live in the woods."
Person Two: "No, you can't just Thoreau your life away."
Like Icarus, you may also find yourself in the middle,stuck in your thoughts, in the weights of what could be versus the dreaded actuality.You long for the sun, hot upon your back with wings spread as yousoar upon a wave of glory, nothing to pull you down.Apply wings to wax in plan and hope and want,don them as any other would wear their clothing.But the sun burns and wax melts. Feathers may float,
but you, like Icarus, do not.
The waves will swallow you, drown you in their depths of doubt,
of what-ifs and cannots.
The sun, once a welcome warmth, burns you beyond repair and
water fills your lungs.
And you long for the middle, for the grounds that offer no threat.
You find solace in clouds above your head and sand beneath you feet.
They offer no threat, no wet gasps for air or hot wax dripping down spine.
But where is the glory in the middle?
Where does one find the warmth of success or the wet cries of despair but
in high or low. Middle offers no rewards.
So you must fly.
Don your hope and dreams like the wings of Icarus.
Beware the waters that lap at your heels and the sun which
threatens the wax to bubbles.
Fly as Icarus did,
but do not seek his company for he will lead you astray.