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If you make friends with the monsters in your head, maybe they'll crawl back under the bed. Where they belong.
A real person is not perfect. A perfect person is not real.
The things that I star are like little souvenirs. They've made me smile or laugh out loud or think or remember ... So, thanks for that.
Thanks for being my friend. In spite of me being me.
It's never a good idea to tell me something isn't a good idea. Then it just sounds like the best idea ever.
Sometimes, I think there can be more honesty and vulnerability in the questions, than in the answers.
No rhyme. No reason. Sometimes it just is. And, that can be a beautiful thing.
It's not your words that I want you to put in my mouth.
Whoever coined the phrase with age comes wisdom was obviously full of shit. Or, smoking better drugs than me.
When you finally realize that you just weren't good enough. Or, even enough.
I say stupid shit because someone has to. And because sometimes my brain to mouth filter is asleep at the switch.
My heart's got things on its mind. That won't be ignored.
Gonna pop some Xanax, have a few cups of whiskey laced coffee then head out to do the last minute Christmas shopping thing. Wish me luck!
I want a hammock in my office. And a cabana boy named Alejandro.
Some days, I have no fucking clue. And, I'm alright with that.
Misspent? I lived. I laughed. I loved. I lost. I learned. I loved again and again and again.
This is one of those perfect fall nights to be sitting down by the river. Listening to the water quietly share its secrets.
Time to let go. Of what never was and never would be.
Because, sometimes you just can't use the word fuck enough in one sentence.
Come. Fly with me.