Sorry but that's not okay when you pretend it's alright. You can't walk a path when you're still standing still and I think you left your feet behind you. I'd suggest opening up your chest and checking that you still have your heart because I think you locked it up back at home so it wouldn't become a nuisance but if you ask me you're prettier when its sewn on your sleeve. Sure it's intriguing when I can't find it and sure I want to sit with you until I have an accurate sketch of what I deduce your heart to look like but that's me being mystified by something that doesn't exist anywhere but my head. Stop giving us the opportunity to build that image and instead draw the real thing on your forehead so no one can be mistaken. Because I knew you when your face was happy and I knew you when people noticed your heart as you walked down the street but now I see people wonder and I don't think it's because you like that. I think it's because you're not aware and I was there and I didn't know but being aware and understanding to the best of your ability is a wondrous thing, try it out.
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I'd like to say I remain unswayed but I don't know how well I know myself and I want to find the place to find myself and I might need to be shoved in a room and look myself in the eye and ask myself for truth because I'd rather not give it. I'd rather not give in. Drowning in ignorance sometimes feels ok because it doesn't feel it just numbs and numbing is easy because you don't hurt or care but trying is better because then you process and you learn and things aren't ok and it's ok for things not to be ok. It's ok to speak the word "no" when asked if you're doing ok. It's ok to feel bad and sometimes, not always and not even usually, but sometimes it helps to do something good when you feel bad and then you feel better and more understanding about being not ok. I'm going to go define "not ok" I'll let you know later.
You built a white prison because you thought that would make it clean and you colored pastels on the windows because you thought that would make it pretty and you cut off all your hair because you were afraid of lions. Then you met your best friend, a lion. So you put blue on your walls, deep dark blue and you put rubys in your windows to sharpen the light and you didn't touch your hair and it became wild. That was you. You all tied in a bow.
All the queens put on their pretty armor and they found a nice tree and they sat. They didn't discuss and they didn't express, they didn't feel they just sat. They let the salt roll down their cheeks but didn't know why and didn't care. It wasn't a matter of why or what because they had been asked not to feel and they obeyed. Except for the princess, still young enough too taste the salt she asked why in her head and she knew she wasnt allowed an answer or even the question herself but she didn't stop. She was crying because she wanted answers. The queens weren't even crying, they were just opening up and letting the salt fall out because they were told to and they couldnt do anything unless they were told to. They never questioned doing things they were not told to do because they only knew how to do things if the command had been issued. And it had. The princess understood, and she wasn't sad.
How do you feel about bedtime stories? Do you wish she'd stop? Do the stories mean less the more they are told or are they different every time? How about when she tells you that story every night, the one you love, do you grow closer to it and does your love grow stronger or has it slowly lost its special when the rush from hearing it for the first time goes away. I like bedtime stories. Even when they get old there is comfort and a little hug that they never fail to share.
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