Skipping reels of rhyme.

Yesterday you may have stubbed every toe on your foot and the evening before that you may have curled up with cream liqueur and woke with your head feeling like a pinball machine. Yesterday you may have fallen into every crack you encountered, and never resurfaced, and felt like every prospect had faded and every dream had escaped you. This morning you may have been paranoid and feverish — peering too intently into things better left unseen, whittling the time away writing the plot of your own horror movie, destroying tastebuds with the heat of your coffee, a burning mouth the least of your worries. You may have neglected your responsibilities and opted instead for some form of self-destruction. You may have wanted it all to end.

I think beginning again is easier than people realise. I’m sure you have heard the New Years’ resolutions and the birthday-eve promises. People wait for prominent, annual occasions to make changes, and if they fail — and they often do — they have to wait the year out to give it another shot. This has never made the slightest bit of sense to me. Surely any day is a good day to make a change. 

Today you might read a book that saves you, or drink the perfect latte, or look out the window to see your ideal sky. You might get the job, or the boy, or the recognition. You might let go of that long list of people still stashed away in the bottom drawer of your mind, haunting you at every turn. You might find a penny, or God, or that one sock you gave up on ever reuniting with its pair. You might even find yourself.

So my advice to you, if you’re willing to listen to a girl who skims rockbottom most days, is to take that unfamiliar bus route, to blink less, to absorb more, to inhale foreign air whenever you get the chance. Risk everything you have as often as you can. Brush the frost from your rib-cage and give somebody your whole heart for the first time in years. Slow down the parts you usually rush through and jump into those you ordinarily edge around. Realise the beauty of the occasional free fall, and then turn that realisation into something more than theoretical. Have the guts to tweak your circumstances until you’re blissfully content with every aspect. And never entertain the notion that you deserve any less than your top-shelf dream. 

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    This. Is. Beautiful. I’d kill to be able to write like this.
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