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title = "Forging a path into the web of unknown"
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||||
date = 2018-01-12
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||||
date = "2018-01-12T00:00:00Z"
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||||
title = "Forging a path into the web of unknown"
|
||||
|
||||
[[resources]]
|
||||
src = "**O61o9mJWmPm4pxRint1HTw*"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
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||||
src = "**O61o9mJWmPm4pxRint1HTw*"
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||||
[resources.params]
|
||||
[resources.params.meta]
|
||||
creator = "Benjamin Blättler"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/J40eheaQ_OE?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" # also updates caption
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license" # attribution not required
|
||||
creator = "Benjamin Blättler"
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/J40eheaQ_OE?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
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||||
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||||
+++
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||||
I stand, hesitant
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||||
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||||
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||||
@@ -1,13 +1,16 @@
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||||
+++
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||||
title = "I don’t know how to write"
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||||
date = 2018-01-13
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||||
date = "2018-01-13T00:00:00Z"
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||||
title = "I don’t know how to write"
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||||
|
||||
[[resources]]
|
||||
src = "**oZDxPDh3u6b9i2r6dIRUhg*"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
src = "**oZDxPDh3u6b9i2r6dIRUhg*"
|
||||
[resources.params]
|
||||
[resources.params.meta]
|
||||
creator = "Alex Iby"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/aU1cBKa3mJU?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" # also updates caption
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license" # attribution not required
|
||||
creator = "Alex Iby"
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/aU1cBKa3mJU?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
|
||||
|
||||
+++
|
||||
That I honestly don’t know is something I always kept close to my chest. But no more.
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||||
|
||||
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||||
@@ -1,14 +1,17 @@
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||||
+++
|
||||
title = "Frenetic Scribblings #34: Magic of the 4am silence"
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||||
date = 2018-01-04
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||||
categories = ["thoughts"]
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||||
date = "2018-01-04T00:00:00Z"
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||||
title = "Frenetic Scribblings #34: Magic of the 4am silence"
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||||
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||||
[[resources]]
|
||||
src = "**nightstreet*"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
src = "**nightstreet*"
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||||
[resources.params]
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||||
[resources.params.meta]
|
||||
creator = "Khachik Simonian"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/G22cAfM7-tE?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" # also updates caption
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license" # attribution not required
|
||||
creator = "Khachik Simonian"
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/G22cAfM7-tE?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
|
||||
|
||||
+++
|
||||
4am is a magical time. Where the late-nighters have mostly drifted off to bed, and the early-risers haven’t well…risen.
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||||
|
||||
|
||||
BIN
content/post/2018/03/i-opt-out-too/1*RO-tbOgBBK6ksl1w6NXbKg.jpeg
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content/post/2018/03/i-opt-out-too/1*RO-tbOgBBK6ksl1w6NXbKg.jpeg
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82
content/post/2018/03/i-opt-out-too/i-opt-out-too.markdown
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82
content/post/2018/03/i-opt-out-too/i-opt-out-too.markdown
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+++
|
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categories = ["about me", "life"]
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date = "2018-03-16T00:00:00.000Z"
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layout = "post"
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||||
title = "I opt out, too"
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||||
|
||||
[[resources]]
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
src = "**RO-tbOgBBK6ksl1w6NXbKg*"
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||||
[resources.params]
|
||||
[resources.params.meta]
|
||||
creator = "Hans Eiskonen"
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/qTxwKHZwl6M?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
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||||
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||||
+++
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||||
|
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> “I opt out of all of the bullshit I never signed up for to begin with.”
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Get up.
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Go to work.
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Go home.
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|
||||
Sleep.
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|
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Repeat.
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|
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Such a life is one of survival, not living. Maybe some real living is squeezed in around the edges.
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A snatch of meaningful human interaction on the occasional evening — here.
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A weekend away — there.
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A long holiday — once in a while.
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Scraps of life paid for by the cremation of time **nobody** can afford to waste.
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Yet we have to.
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Or *do* we?
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[**I Opt Out.** *From this very moment forward I no longer subscribe — to your priorities, principles and pointless pursuits. I opt out…*](https://medium.com/geezer-speaks/i-opt-out-ee3b693c5bf3 "https://medium.com/geezer-speaks/i-opt-out-ee3b693c5bf3")[](https://medium.com/geezer-speaks/i-opt-out-ee3b693c5bf3)
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I say get *up*. I say, **wake up**.
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I say *fuck that* to all of the above.
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Fuck that to a life that isn’t.
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To a day on repeat, for all of my horribly short existence.
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Fuck that to working just to survive.
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To spending precious hours of freedom recovering from the very work that provides for.
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Fuck that to Modern Society.
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To all its materialism, celebrity ‘news’ the only ‘light’ in the mill of hate and fear.
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Fuck that to being told how to live.
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To being told to live an *un*life.
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I’ve always festered this idea, of breaking free. I never quite subscribed. Never quite fit in, because I didn’t like being told what to do. But was afraid to stand out. I still am, but my eyes are opening to the fact freedom is worth it.
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Even still, it will be a lifetime’s work. But that’s a worthy cause — better than an *un*lifetime’s work at *any* rate.
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Starting today, I will not like or dislike something on the whims of someone else.
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Starting today, I will do my level best to disregard social norms.
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Starting today, I will be the spanner in the gears of civilisation.
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Starting today, I will not let anyone tell me how I should live.
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Starting today, I consciously hit *‘unsubscribe’* on Society.
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I know [Brian Brewington](https://medium.com/u/b0f2a24f7463) is with me. I know that [Where Angels Fear](https://medium.com/u/6c8bcd0d1a65) will be glad of the riot. I know that [Gaëlane](https://medium.com/u/e3ddbb5fdbd5) has the hang of this already. Regardless…are *you* with me?
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|
||||
### Are you ready to **live?**
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||||
@@ -1,13 +1,16 @@
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||||
+++
|
||||
title = "The Key to Immortality"
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||||
date = 2018-03-31
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||||
date = "2018-03-31T00:00:00+01:00"
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||||
title = "The Key to Immortality"
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||||
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||||
[[resources]]
|
||||
src = "**E-_3L9RFYDCe9wIS4mQfvA*"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
src = "**E-_3L9RFYDCe9wIS4mQfvA*"
|
||||
[resources.params]
|
||||
[resources.params.meta]
|
||||
creator = "Vincent Foret"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/3S_nePubrtw?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyTextt" # also updates caption
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license" # attribution not required
|
||||
creator = "Vincent Foret"
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/3S_nePubrtw?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyTextt"
|
||||
|
||||
+++
|
||||
#### Perpetuation from a shattering?
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||||
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||||
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||||
@@ -0,0 +1,44 @@
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||||
+++
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||||
categories = ["poetic", "life", "fiction", "love"]
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||||
date = "2018-04-07"
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||||
images = ["/img/1*e39CbqcpCNOKbH-dPX6KZg.jpeg"]
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||||
layout = "post"
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||||
title = "A love letter to the infernal combustion engine"
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||||
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||||
+++
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||||
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||||
She flew.
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Though not on wings.
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Crouched astride a gleaming machine, she flew with gasoline.
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Flew between lumbering bubbles of steel. Just so many birdcages. And one hawk soaring among them.
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||||
They meandered to destinations unknown. While she flew, destination undetermined. Destination *unimportant*.
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||||
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||||
{{< image url="/img/1*e39CbqcpCNOKbH-dPX6KZg.jpeg" caption="*Photo by [KEVIN CLYDE BERBANO](https://unsplash.com/photos/r4V8xg21vek?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/speed?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)*" >}}
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||||
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||||
She flew, and she screamed.
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||||
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||||
She howled into the night. A fierce sound of primal anguish. Impaled with emotion. A beast of passion and turmoil, barely contained.
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||||
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||||
The engine roared in riposte. A harsh gravelly rumble that was felt more than heard. A beast of flame and steel, barely contained.
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||||
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||||
She screamed to vent her choked heart.
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||||
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||||
Offered herself at the feet of the fire before she was burnt up.
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||||
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||||
Offered herself to the grinding asphalt before she was scoured away.
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||||
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||||
Offered herself into the fierce wind before she was blown apart.
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||||
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||||
Screamed into the wind and rain, the fire and darkness. Screamed and let her voice be lost in the noise. Screamed in liberation from strangling feeling.
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||||
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The engine screamed with her for it knew no else.
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||||
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||||
They screamed to live.
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||||
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||||
<hr>
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||||
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||||
[**Out Where The Desert Breaks.** *An Engine Roars.*](https://medium.com/@scottcarnahan/out-where-the-desert-breaks-7fda7b4d8ede "https://medium.com/@scottcarnahan/out-where-the-desert-breaks-7fda7b4d8ede")[](https://medium.com/@scottcarnahan/out-where-the-desert-breaks-7fda7b4d8ede) *Originally intended to be a piece for *[*Scene and Heard*](https://medium.com/the-scene-heard)*’s ‘Highlights’ submission call. It now doesn’t know quite what it wants to be. Regardless I shall set it free.*
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||||
14
content/post/2018/04/hearts-can-be-thawed.markdown
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14
content/post/2018/04/hearts-can-be-thawed.markdown
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@@ -0,0 +1,14 @@
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||||
+++
|
||||
categories = ["poetic"]
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||||
date = "2018-04-06"
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||||
images = ["/img/jilbert-ebrahimi-pVEcNabAg9o-unsplash.jpg"]
|
||||
layout = "post"
|
||||
title = "Hearts can be..."
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||||
|
||||
+++
|
||||
<div style="max-width: 600px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
|
||||
{{< image url="/img/jilbert-ebrahimi-pVEcNabAg9o-unsplash.jpg" caption="*Photo by [Jilbert Ebrahimi](https://unsplash.com/@jilburr?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/s/photos/broken?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)*" class="full-width" >}}
|
||||
</div>
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||||
Hearts can be thawed, they can be broken.
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||||
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||||
Daemons can be beaten back, they can be broken.
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@@ -1,9 +1,11 @@
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||||
+++
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||||
date = "2018-06-05T00:00:00+01:00"
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||||
title = "Fuck the world"
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||||
date = 2018-06-05
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||||
|
||||
[[resources]]
|
||||
src = "**b8-UrpS2ct361i2QWAVeRw*"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
src = "**b8-UrpS2ct361i2QWAVeRw*"
|
||||
|
||||
+++
|
||||
#### Not literally, you might catch something[1]
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||||
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||||
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||||
@@ -1,9 +1,11 @@
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||||
+++
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||||
title = "*snkt*, *snkt*, *snkt*"
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||||
date = 2018-06-12
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||||
categories = ["fiction"]
|
||||
date = "2018-06-12T00:00:00+01:00"
|
||||
title = "*snkt*, *snkt*, *snkt*"
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||||
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||||
[[resources]]
|
||||
src = "**spiderweb*"
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||||
name = "header thumbnail"
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||||
src = "**spiderweb*"
|
||||
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||||
+++
|
||||
Like metronomic and distorted cackling laughter the idea-spiders skitter. Piercing clatter of a thousand million worming thoughts. Each one keens in its own way, hungry for freedom. Each one glibly promising sprawling webs of crystalline creativity. Each one truthful to a volatile degree.
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||||
42
content/post/2018/07/chasing-the-edge.markdown
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42
content/post/2018/07/chasing-the-edge.markdown
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||||
+++
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||||
categories = ["life", "poetic", "me"]
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||||
date = "2018-07-07"
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images = ["/img/1*CoN8gAcwONSumYsaadY8HQ.jpeg"]
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||||
layout = "post"
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title = "Chasing the Edge"
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+++
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||||
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The Edge is that which lights. That which sets the blood pumping. That which sparks the soul.
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The Edge is the edge between life and death.
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Chasing the Edge leads to the Rush.
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The Rush is the fire lit from the Edge. The thump of heart pumping at the Edge. The blaze of soul sparked at the Edge.
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|
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The Rush is adrenaline, nothing more — nothing less.
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It is also the only way I know how to *Live*.
|
||||
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I don’t know how to feel other than the Rush. All I have is the Edge.
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||||
|
||||
The Edge makes me feel alive. Always have…always will…
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||||
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||||
Of course, the thing about the Edge is it has to be dangerous. Else it wouldn’t *be *the Edge!
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||||
Chasing the Rush is just like chasing the wind. Exciting, but ultimately futile. Each time it hits just a little less. Boosts just a little less. So I push closer to the Edge. One step, one step at a time. Chasing leaves on the breeze, head wired upwards. Couldn’t see the cliff coming up if I wanted to.
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Addiction.
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||||
|
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Addiction and…craving.
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||||
|
||||
I cannot feel satisfaction. Even at the Edge, there is no satisfaction. Always demand for MORE, MORE, *MORE*. Ever greater hits, ever greater heights.
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||||
|
||||
Sooner or later, it’ll kill me. Maybe then it’ll be satisfied. The Edge will have drawn the blood it demands. Maybe then *I’ll* be satisfied.
|
||||
|
||||
<hr/>
|
||||
|
||||
Originally published [on Medium](https://medium.com/frenetic-scribblings/chasing-the-edge-b473b3efd3e2)
|
||||
31
content/post/2018/07/clawmarks-on-my-memories.markdown
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31
content/post/2018/07/clawmarks-on-my-memories.markdown
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+++
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||||
categories = ["life", "memory", "me"]
|
||||
date = "2018-07-08"
|
||||
images = ["/img/1*QiRpt7tqra3moEbFQwtsnA.jpeg"]
|
||||
layout = "post"
|
||||
title = "Clawmarks on my memories"
|
||||
|
||||
+++
|
||||
{{< image url="/img/1*QiRpt7tqra3moEbFQwtsnA.jpeg" caption="*Photo by [Andy Tootell](https://unsplash.com/photos/oRhhb0f2Kic?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/scratch?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)*" >}}
|
||||
|
||||
One of the reasons I’m so *damn* good at living for the present is that I can’t remember the past.
|
||||
|
||||
The instant a moment is gone it blurs, out of focus. Then it fades into the blackness. I can’t remember the mundane — what I had for lunch the other day, what movies I watched last week. Nor can I remember the special — the first kiss, the last heartbreak. It’s all gone.
|
||||
|
||||
Faded out.
|
||||
|
||||
I love it, and I *hate* it. I hate it, and I *love* it.
|
||||
|
||||
It’s true that I can never be satisfied [without adrenaline]({{< ref "/post/2018/07/chasing-the-edge" >}} "Chasing The Edge"). But that isn’t the whole picture. Satisfaction is underpinned by *memory*. I cannot be satisfied in what I have done when I cannot remember it.
|
||||
|
||||
I am cursed to wander — to always chase more. Adrenaline, and everything else. I cannot learn from a past that is no longer mine. I cannot remember fondly a laugh shared. I cannot relive the pain of a past heartbreak.
|
||||
|
||||
I cannot remember.
|
||||
|
||||
No matter how hard I try to hold, the memories always slip away. No matter how fiercely I claw. I have to live for the here and now, because otherwise [I ain’t got shit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TP5cjnVGJ38).
|
||||
|
||||
I cannot remember.
|
||||
|
||||
I love it.
|
||||
|
||||
*I hate it.*
|
||||
@@ -1,14 +1,17 @@
|
||||
+++
|
||||
title = "Flickering like candle-flame in the wind"
|
||||
date = 2018-07-01
|
||||
categories = ["fiction", "philosophy"]
|
||||
date = "2018-07-01T00:00:00+01:00"
|
||||
title = "Flickering like candle-flame in the wind"
|
||||
|
||||
[[resources]]
|
||||
src = "**iApOUMOp3jumngLFj3RhY*"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
[resources.params.meta]
|
||||
creator = "Paul Bulai"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/XOQJa4OC8P0?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" # also updates caption
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license" # attribution not required
|
||||
src = "**iApOUMOp3jumngLFj3RhY*"
|
||||
[resources.params]
|
||||
[resources.params.meta]
|
||||
creator = "Paul Bulai"
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/XOQJa4OC8P0?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
|
||||
|
||||
+++
|
||||
#### The edge of vision otherwise dark
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
@@ -1,14 +1,17 @@
|
||||
+++
|
||||
title = "A spark"
|
||||
date = 2018-09-27
|
||||
categories = ["fiction", "poetic"]
|
||||
date = "2018-09-27T00:00:00+01:00"
|
||||
title = "A spark"
|
||||
|
||||
[[resources]]
|
||||
src = "**1*ellvvARbfEzEiKBCwvI7_g*"
|
||||
name = "header thumbnail"
|
||||
[resources.params.meta]
|
||||
creator = "Jarl Schmidt"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/WxEI0pKND_Q?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText" # also updates caption
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license" # attribution not required
|
||||
src = "**1*ellvvARbfEzEiKBCwvI7_g*"
|
||||
[resources.params]
|
||||
[resources.params.meta]
|
||||
creator = "Jarl Schmidt"
|
||||
license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
|
||||
sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/WxEI0pKND_Q?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
|
||||
|
||||
+++
|
||||
A spark
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
20
content/post/2018/09/wildrose.md
Normal file
20
content/post/2018/09/wildrose.md
Normal file
@@ -0,0 +1,20 @@
|
||||
+++
|
||||
categories = ["poetic"]
|
||||
date = "2018-09-21 00:00:00 +0100"
|
||||
layout = "post"
|
||||
title = "Wild Rose"
|
||||
+++
|
||||
Most roses are tamed, claiming only a veneer of beauty. But some are wild and free. And all the more beautiful for it.
|
||||
|
||||
Wild roses wear crowns of thorns.
|
||||
They are beautiful and dangerous.
|
||||
|
||||
Wild roses are hardy, enduring plants.
|
||||
They are strong and tenacious.
|
||||
|
||||
Wild roses are the brightflowers among sprawling tangles of thorns.
|
||||
They shine bright against the Dark.
|
||||
|
||||
Soft petals, strong thorns. Soft heart, strong will. You are my wild rose.
|
||||
|
||||
🌹
|
||||
48
content/post/2018/10/you-are.markdown
Normal file
48
content/post/2018/10/you-are.markdown
Normal file
@@ -0,0 +1,48 @@
|
||||
+++
|
||||
categories = ["poetic"]
|
||||
date = "2018-10-08"
|
||||
images = ["/img/1*JpjpU2gIO2RmIVUfHfiwmw.jpeg"]
|
||||
layout = "post"
|
||||
title = "You are…"
|
||||
+++
|
||||
<div style="max-width: 600px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
|
||||
{{< image url="/img/1*JpjpU2gIO2RmIVUfHfiwmw.jpeg" caption="*Photo by [Elijah O’Donnell](https://unsplash.com/photos/Kaw6v5cBV0I?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/star-human?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)*" class="full-width" >}}
|
||||
</div>
|
||||
|
||||
{{< image url="/img/1*FKI6lQ5Fk9FdqjLR5l0JVg.jpeg" caption="*Photo by [Joonyeop Baek](https://unsplash.com/photos/O_y9SKdWito?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/old-oak?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)*" >}}
|
||||
|
||||
Like the aeons ancient celestial-battle scarred crust of this very Earth
|
||||
|
||||
You are strong, like the barked fortress of a enduring old-oak
|
||||
|
||||
*And yet…*
|
||||
|
||||
{{< image url="/img/1*oxdvd5ynIue_OYI61Xe3-w.jpeg" caption="*Photo by [Derek Mack](https://unsplash.com/photos/CcRZ4k3c6gA?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/sunset?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)*" >}}
|
||||
|
||||
Like the lightest breeze playing across a dew-kissed meadow
|
||||
|
||||
You are gentle, like the drifting of a ruby sunset below the flung horizon
|
||||
|
||||
*And yet…*
|
||||
|
||||
{{< image url="/img/1*f7AK2fiDTPHDyGBZwmUkKg.jpeg" caption="*Photo by [Steve Halama](https://unsplash.com/photos/6twzYVHRurY?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/volcano?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)*" >}}
|
||||
|
||||
Like the lashing touch of a storm battering all within its flailing grasp
|
||||
|
||||
You are powerful, like the earth-blood filled bubbling core of a volcano
|
||||
|
||||
*And yet…*
|
||||
|
||||
{{< image url="/img/1*0Vq-2hfASfydjaB8bbDfDw.jpeg" caption="*Photo by [JuniperPhoton](https://unsplash.com/photos/SjkzLV7wfUg?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/autumn?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)*" >}}
|
||||
|
||||
Like the maelstrom of imagination that fills every wondering head
|
||||
|
||||
You are dependable, the turn of the seasons, the annual gilding and falling of swarms of leaves
|
||||
|
||||
*And so…*
|
||||
|
||||
{{< image url="/img/1*aZZY-UK4VlBv23Jkt-OwcA.jpeg" caption="*Photo by [Cristofer Jeschke](https://unsplash.com/photos/Ce3XLxac0f4?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/star-human?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)*" >}}
|
||||
|
||||
You are…*alive*. You are *…human*. Fire-striking, tsunami-powerful. Earth-strong, breeze-gentle. You are stardust driven fierce by a mighty mind. Stand proud and know this. **You are enough.**
|
||||
|
||||
<small>Originally published on Medium</small>
|
||||
Reference in New Issue
Block a user