This type of democracy for my country, I neva see am before. You go need vision 2020 to look for am wella. And, looking for it with your normal eyes will always prove abortive because our democracy no get second hand, better tear rubber cha cha.
‘Love, Her’, teaches you how to love yourself and others in simple ways such as being honest, allowing yourself to see growth as a normal process, adjusting to reality when things don’t go as planned and believing things to work out fine. ‘Love is meant to be the purest form of appreciating another human being without expectations or demands.’
Something to teach about being you. Being simple yet making the world feel you just the way you are, ordinary
I often get down on myself for the lack of meaning in the spurts of writing I publish on my blog, the ten-minute free writes that are unedited streams of consciousness, the spewing of thoughts after pulling a prompt from a box. “Who cares?” I ask myself. Who cares about the details of everyday life? The creaks and hums my house makes when it is empty? The smell of coffee and paper and ink when I write?
And then I sigh and recognize I am no writer, not like the real writers who don’t just write the details to plop you in the middle of a scene so you feel the warmth of golden light on prairie grasses and smell the grain scent they radiate in sunshine. Real writers get to a deeper truth beyond just being in the setting. They get to meaning.
Or so I thought.
I am in the car…
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We simply can't wish away the past. It is there locked in the recesses of our minds even though we try to snub its yearning call. Yesterday formed today and only today can make tomorrow better.
As a child, holidays don't get any better but just as you're growing up the jolly holiday experience fizzles.