A thought on real love

It's nice to have someone, some body to see all your insecurities, take them in their hands and kiss them, softly.  To support them with their love and compassion.  Those little quirks that make you, you; often are trouble for most, challenging, annoying.  For the right kind of person, for the person, those things are special - sometimes mildly annoying - but they make you, you.  So that person loves you for all the rough edges, the squiggly lines, all imperfections and insecurities - the whole being that is you.

When you can do the same for that person.....that, my friend, is real, unconditional love.

So you wanna be a writer, eh?  You think you have what it takes?  The diligence to pursue a dream career that may never come to fruition, the drive to continue after endless rejections, the criticism and negative feedback, haunting blocks to the brain that cloud your desires, just to get those last few words out.  What are those words?  They're there, at the tip of your tongue, waiting to be written, spoken in a whisper, through your fingers as you type.  But it's hard to get them out sometimes, see, it's tough to find those words, it's tough to know what to say.  You're your own worst critic, they tell you.  So many of them, family and friends.  Reach for the stars, go for what you want, take your dreams and make them a reality.  You have too many dreams, maybe?  Too many ideas pop in and out all day.  It's like a fucking auction of thoughts, but it's being orated by a goldfish; nonsense, ramblings.  But they do make sense, to you...

So, begin.  Write your blog, like you're doing right now.  Create your story, fill the pages with tales of golden futures.  A place where all the good stuff happens.  The other universe sitting beside you, within you.  It's yours.  So take it.