Are we going to wait it out?

You live your life as if it's real

I know what it like, Ms. Celie, to wanna go somewhere and cain't. I know what it like to wanna sing... and have it beat outch'ya.

Down The Rabbit Hole: Dream, dream, dream...

Albert Camus said: 'we love our dreams so much that we are afraid of making them come true'. I was sure I knew what my dreams were. I was sure I wouldn't rest until I MAKE them come true. And then...
- You've given up...
- No, I haven't. No.
- You've given up. That's how I see it.
- No! I just don't want to escape any more. A failure is possible and if it happens, I don't want to perceive it as a life tragedy.
- Of course, it wouldn't be a tragedy. But you've given up. You have.
I have.

The fourth sentence of this week arrived unexpectedly. The fourth, to cover it all:
"And although we are not what we should be yet, we are not what we used to be!"

Tears stream, down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face and I...


Tears stream, down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face and I...

Three days. Three people. Three healing sentences.

One for confidence
One for consolation
One for consolidation

I'm so grateful. I'm so happy. Like never before.

Down The Rabbit Hole: Story Recently Neglected

I do not dream in metaphors any more. I live them. And if I live, it means - I'm alive! So much alive! That is why the metaphors do not knock on the window to catch my attention. And I do not watch them through the panes. The door is open and I let them in. At last, we can get acquainted.

- I'm an emotional retard.
Silence
- You're just completely lost. It's hard not to feel the side effects.
For the first time I'm allowed to be lost. For the first time I know that's the only way out.

So many things happen that I have serious difficulties with covering them all. I'm not keeping up with thinking, amazing... not to mention writing! If anyone visits this site - please, forgive me my absence.

So, you. You - the only one or two, or three (I can't dream of four) visitors! I could tell you the story of getting lost but never being lost, the story of the strong desire for truth and not making friends but recognizing them. And that would be just the very beginning of the journey.

I could recall leading questions, profound discussions, travel, pictures and quotes. And that would be the story of Trust.

I could speak about understanding, drawings, three languages and meaningful words and the feeling that there were three of us. And that would be the story Sisterhood.

I could get back to questions, answers and explanations, proofs and the proof. And that would be the story of Faith.

I could thrill at the thought of bread and a precious gift from a stranger, fear, great reveal and great joy. The Proof. And that would be the story of Grace.

I could share with you the coincidences, a new place to live and C. S. Lewis. And that would be the story of Understanding.

I could tell you the story of being found and being free. But I can't. I'm speechless. And the story's still being written.

So, this is freedom? This is what a new-born feels? Lots of free space (I can stretch my arms, woho!), true shapes and clear sounds? Cold, sorrow, regret, shame and pain? Welcome! No, thank you, I'll do without an incubator. Just smack my ass and let me breathe. I am ready like never before.