In this moment, I feel so connected to the source of my sorrow. This aloneness that I think I have, but I don’t really have. This knowledge that I am going to die, that you are going to die, that we are all going to die. Sometimes it hits me so hard and the regret of time not well spent burrows in, being unkind or misunderstood, of not living up to my potential, whatever that is.
I have been insatiable, unsatisfied, rarely present and demanding that the world give me more than the incredible abundance that I already have. I have been seeking that accomplishment that will give me respect, the respect that I have thought I deserved. So that in your eyes I will really matter. Whoever you are, but most especially if I felt you hadn't already accepted me just as I am.
My guts just spilled themselves and change is already here.