the life you lead
seems so alluring, so inspiring and I know that it was designed to seem that way but is that really what I want? is that the life that will make me happy, in the end? I use the term "happy" loosely here - Atlas
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the goal is not
to be comfortable, endlessly for a life without challenge is a life of stagnation, a life without color. that doesn't make things easy though - Atlas a gentle rose
unfolds, mindful of its thorns but never mindful enough, it seems it will never be so mindful that the thorns go away entirely, for that is not its nature - Atlas Papers, stacked
On my desk. They are just tools Once they have fulfilled their purpose They will be thrown away. But they were alive, once. there is a sense of loss there - Atlas I am so used to creating in
an infinite white space, a void that the eyes watching are now a tangible weight on my back. I can now no longer be anything. coming to some realizations about my creative process - Atlas and I think part of growing up
is learning the difference between discomfort and true harm learning how to lean into a gentle stretch but pull back before something tears but how does one become comfortable with discomfort?? is such a thing even possible (I feel it must be) - Atlas these days, I find myself wanting
to be a professional amateur-- to do things for the love of it, to fail and make mistakes and grow to understand that learning is, and has always been the destination. a thought, half-articulated - Atlas my mind is not what it once was
what it could be and hopefully will be, tomorrow-- fatigue has loosened its grip, made it fumble, drop, and pick up the same thought over and over the poem not making sense only serves to prove its point - Atlas sometimes it feels like
I am not trying if I do not succeed-- most of all when the thing I am trying to do is start and I know that it is not always true, but sometimes at least it feels like it is - Atlas |
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