It’s change, I think. Something deep in my conscious is flirting with me, telling me to hold on. When I feel an uncomfortable dark cloud hovering above my head, when other people’s opinions are bringing me to my knees and when I want to scream ‘shut up’ something stirs. It’s sort of like the way the ocean keeps teasing the shore. I’m trying to listen, to hear the good news but I don’t yet. I long for change because I’m too old to remain static. Static in the push down, the unrelenting BS. I feel knowledge, I don’t need to hear it. I feel judgement, I don’t need to hear it. I want to be free, to be admired, to be loved. I want to find it, that freedom, that beautiful place of flowers and sunshine. I want to run through the meadow that holds the secret of change. I want to rise above the mundane and know this is it. This is where I soar and I am seen for who I am. I want to stand and welcome tomorrow because it holds a promise. I don’t see it yet, but I will.
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