Really has been a long, strange (and exasperating) road.
This is the first time in a long time that I haven't been swept into some chaotic backwater eddy of worry littered with the rotting remnants of past mistakes with an undertow of feeling as though I must prove myself worthy of loving, nonetheless trusting.
It is said that only the best 20% of the effort used in a day results in 80% progress. Maybe putting in too much effort reduces the overall quality of all the effort.
Maybe I need to make other's opinions less important than my own, especially because, no matter how clear I think I'm being, any communication is subject to possible erroneous interpretation.
"See me. Hear me....
Though I desire to be understood, at the very least, I have no control over another's point of view. That has to be accepted by me, even though I feel like a stranger.
...I have been acting like one to those who know me. I am truly regretful that I didn't give as much as I received, my lovely friends, years have passed and you are all still in my heart. Love never dies, it just rots and decomposes - if you let it.
- Love Lives Here