Mark Blickley did for me what Robin Williams did for him. He was the first published author, kind, brilliant creative person to encourage me to write. I love this piece for obvious and many reasons. Thank you, Robin Williams for paying it forward in kind.
I never cared much about looking back when I was young. I could not wait to leave this house, this town get out and experience stuff. You know the obstinate dreamer looking for bold adventure. It worked. I ran. I ran fast and far, and kept running. That’s the funny thing about developing a serious illness, you are forced to re-prioritize. Becoming insane in the middle of Manhattan did not bode well for me
One, Two Buckle My Shoe By Jacqueline Cioffa One, two buckle my shoe. I don’t know how other writers find their way into a story. For me, it usually goes something like this. I hear a line in my head, a word, see a visual, and then the story plays over and over, until I release it onto the page. Its cathartic, sometimes it takes me back, some days it
There is in fact a whole earth with enough space to roam, create, inspire, dream, conquer, share and uplift. I believe this to be. #truth. I will not waste one second, one millisecond needing or lusting after your shine. Stephen Hawking’s quote suggests, “There ought to be something very special about the boundary conditions of the universe and what can be more special than that there is no boundary?” No boundary, what a revolutionary concept.
One in Four. No, not Really. The very real, gut-wrenching mental illness statistics remain not far off from fifty years ago when pyschiatric institutions were the solution, lock them away. As long as my beautiful chaotic mind and the words don’t betray me, I use my voice. I am Three in Four even Four in Four, hit the mentally ill genetic jackpot. The reality is I could snap at any moment, I pray won’t. Please, don’t judge. Don’t judge the ‘crazy,’ the insane,
Roots and Wings God isn’t looking for me That’s okay He’s busy Lots of heartache going on Too much trouble all around People don’t see people can’t see people don’t wanna see people My god have you seen the news? I can’t believe what’s going on Ain’t new ain’t nothing but old news Still it’s an awful lot of hurt to swallow and go down I’m no better Than you and you
Loving yourself takes time. I didn’t know not exactly, not until this moment. I never believed brushing aside the possibility of happy. Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow I’ll embrace the quirks and eccentrities. Tomorrow. Funny time wasted. Not funny. This end of April Sunday close to May, I stand at the fault line. Middle-aged. The compost pile is toppling from all the shit dumped over the years. I don’t know about you, maybe you were born over-confident.