Patience is key. WHICH IS SO FRUSTRATING considering a spontaneous life that lives in the present has to sit and think about the future and plan and looks to the past for advice through its mistakes and all that. I get it, its necessary in a way, and being spontaneous 24/7 is probably a volcano waiting to explode. But its fun, i promise.
Calmness helps, faith, trust and pixie dust too. But the bigger you are, the harder you fall, sometimes I wish the world was absolutely small.
Here, there’s an annoying reprimanding process of transient mixing and matching of identity; change is the only constant after all.
Honestly, even writing seems ugh. I want to just skip through the words and throw around a few heavy ones and you can connect the dots or get lost in the. But I shall not. I shall start writing again, slowly, I will try getting used to walking again in order to skip the fuck away as well.