shewhoroars

Let go let go. Like unclenching fists, muscles relaxing hanging from a window ledge fifteen stories above the ground. My only hope fingers slip, why am I so afraid to fall? Wouldn't crashing be the best part after all? Just let go, Lindy. She tells me, a soft hand on my arm. Let go.

Do you ever feel as though you've stepped out of yourself for a while? Like the real you took a vacation and some stranger took up residency in your body and started using your towels and eating all your food? Well I think that happened to me, and I finally found out where the real me was hiding out. She was in Boston! No, really. I went to Boston and found myself. I looked her in the face and was like, "Well where the fuck have you been?" And she was smiling and very smug as she said, "Waiting for you." She came back to me while I was playing a twelve string guitar. I was strumming an old song and suddenly new words came to my surprised li

I've carried pain around like luggage of the heart. The only difference between this baggage and travel packages is that there's nothing written on the ticket line for Destination. I think that that is what got me thinking about escape first and foremost. It wasn't the pain, it wasn't the situation, and it wasn't them. It was the thought that I had so much promise… and yet here I was, standing still. I can't move on from here without dissecting every little part I play in the movement, you know me  And yet, there was another problem in that. Moving on? I couldn't move because all of that luggage had weighed me down. Like tryi