Sometimes, it is rather messy. I guess that is why I am so drawn to the pretty, the lovely, the gentle, the serenity I see outside my sphere in the blogs and photos of others. That could be why the delicate and delightful tugs at my soul each time I visit Pinterest and grab photos to share.
I tend to gravitate towards the worn and weary, the used and abused. Not to dwell on their inadequacy or flaws, no. It's because I see the potential-- how it can be changed and made into something fresh, useful, and cherished.Lately it seems as though a piece of me is torn from my heart, my soul, my spirit each day, and I must not struggle to retrieve it or hold onto it. I cannot place a bandaid on it, or kiss it and make it better. I have to literally leave it behind and walk on into the next hour and the next day. It's a lot like grief. It follows you wherever you go, but it cannot live comfortably with the life you seek to live. It becomes an unspoken part of you...a part you know is there, but others fail to recognize any longer. And that's okay, it's still part of being me-- its melody is mine alone to hear. And sing.