August, September, October, November

4 months in a van, seems like that went fast

Is there such a thing as better or worse?

What it feels like is a different kind of freedom.

What I think is the choices I make, make sense.

I don’t really know anything, but I think a lot.

This path is changing everything I though it would,and while the transition is challenging, nobody died.

 

What is enough? Who decides when the cup is filled?

Who gets to tell anyone they don’t measure up?

Who is so important that they get to ask for more?

I see people all around me who thrive with “less than”.

I watch people with less than me change the world.

I witness struggle and success on a daily basis, and they just keep keeping on.

 

I wonder how the rest of them endure.

I’m curious how all the comfortable people keep it together.

I’m baffled by the desire to numb one’s self to the stimulation of cold,hunger,pain,sorrow.

How do you know how to feel when you are always

telling yourself a different story about how you feel?

 

I’d rather save my deep thoughts for saving the world.

I’d rather reserve my feelings for moments of ecstasy.

I’d rather remind myself of all the times I haven’t died.

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