My war is against a cancer stick

My definition of bravery has become a Facebook post.

I’m itching to scream, and be heard.

I just want to be known, and accepted despite.

I don’t want to hide anymore.

I miss friends, and real conversation.

Go, meet strangers. And children. Fall in love with innocence – the stuff is addictive, I think.

Amid all this hiding, I’m forgetting to live.

Experience the new each day. Meet someone new each day. We’re all itching for new experiences. The predictable dull drone that has become your life – it is imperative that you break loose – and experience a new facet of this mysterious, wondrous thing called life each and every day.

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I seek not stories in writing, but nuggets of truth. Does it not mean, then, that a book of quotes on how to live better is probably my best hope of contributing to the world?

Something to work on

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