2018, my optimism is as great as my fear. Be glorious, and grow no more.
I can’t speak, for I fear I’ll say the wrong thing. I know nothing. I’ll never learn anything new. These are the abilities I have and that will never change. I’ll just stay here quietly – shoes untied, paralyzed by a problem I’ve created myself. A home-made problem, all of my own. No one ever told me, “you can’t.” Other than myself, that is.
Other people delight me even as they scare me.
What is age? What is truth? What is time? If I feel like I’m 18, or 28, or whatever, why can’t I be?
Life has always been brutal and unfair, and we have always survived and even thrived. That won't change now.
Food, you are sublime, terrifying, and filled with struggle. I love you, but why must you cause such guilt and fear?
We just came through Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur’s around the corner. And I can’t stop thinking of death approaching on the roaring winds of this ruthless and deadly storm.
Open your arms wide and greet every struggle that has ever touched you.
I was terrified... and then I exulted.
