Mirrors of My Mind

We Are Here It is possible to get comfortable in your writing and forget why you write or maybe find solace in your words and forget how to feel. There will be days we are unable to determine which is better or if both instances make us worse. Chaos reveals our vulnerability, can make us human even when we think this arting has made us immortal. Our mortality exposes its hands every day clawing at our emotions, leaking out of the pores of our skin. We are mere mortals but we are still here. I think I was eight years old, when my mother asked me the question all parents or parent ask each of us once in our lives. I can’t recall if my answer was my truth or what I thought she wanted to hear. Her question was “if all your friends ran and jumped off the cliff would you jump too? I replied no. My question to you is: do you remember your answer? It would seem we’ve arrived at the edge of the cliff. No matter how imaginary or proverbial the ledge is, we are standing inches from fallin...

We Are Here It is possible to get comfortable in your writing and forget why you write or maybe find solace in your words and forget how to feel. There will be days we are unable to determine which is better or if both instances make us worse. Chaos reveals our vulnerability, can make us human even when we think this arting has made us immortal. Our mortality exposes its hands every day clawing at our emotions, leaking out of the pores of our skin. We are mere mortals but we are still here. I think I was eight years old, when my mother asked me the question all parents or parent ask each of us once in our lives. I can’t recall if my answer was my truth or what I thought she wanted to hear. Her question was “if all your friends ran and jumped off the cliff would you jump too? I replied no. My question to you is: do you remember your answer? It would seem we’ve arrived at the edge of the cliff. No matter how imaginary or proverbial the ledge is, we are standing inches from fallin...