In one hundred years, no one will remember I was here. Probably less, and I’m absolutely certain I’m okay with that. I have no children to hover or haunt, no one who will share memories or reminisce. I am absolutely 100% okay with that. Many of the people I loved and love will be gone too, and that makes me happy in a maudlin, relieved kind of mood. Life has
Young girl filled with big dreams it’s fine to carry on, all grown even when you cannot do it alone. There will be others just like you who’ve survived the awkward teenager years, pimples, bruises and broken hearts. They’ll care enough to remind you how perfectly precious you are. It’s okay to fall or fuck up; when you’re doing your best. Life will get harder than you can manage, but
All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. Without the clothes, the bling, the boys, all the heavy stuff. To be deliriously happy without watching the tick-tock of the clock, afraid that your time for bliss had past. It has not. You deserve to feel joy, wonder, love and laughter until your heart beat’s quiet. All I ever wanted was to see you smile wide and large, for
I had the craziest dream. Sweet Gardenia blossoms grew immense enveloping firestorms and chaos, masquerading all traces of ash and burn. The intoxicating scent of sweet perfume permeated the clean air, creating nursery rows of safety bubble greenhouses. A young girl’s innocence remained pure and virtuous. Flowering freedom rained dewdrops of kindness. There were no guns, no mass graves, no starvation, no rape, no death. No dead children. No hate.