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79

“We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were.”
— Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

It's been months since I've had a working computer. Feels good to have access to my vision boards again.

Xxxxo

68

“Do it or don’t. It’s amazing how many things in life are that easy.”
— Henry Rollins

B&W Mood Board

I listen to a list of (my) faults

Yet in my soul, I only find peace, clarity... Truth

My truth keeps me warm

My roots deeper than ever, feelings steady

Strong

Peaceful

At times, I am still tempted to question what I know is true

Times when I am blinded by others' visions

Projection after projection... misguided thought, undeveloped feeling

But I remind myself

It is not my job to clarify your tunnel vision

It is not my duty to go with you into your darkness

I am constantly self-reflecting and evolving

Just as I am constantly wishing others would do the same

My truth is not mine to give, it is mine to keep 

I am done wishing, playing reruns of the past

I am done speaking truths til I'm blue in the face

My truth stems from the work that I have done in my short time walking this Earth

My freedom comes from the locks I have shattered on cages (I and others') built for me in the past

They talk behind my back and to my face but their broken, sharp words bounce off me

My skin is tough now

I am warm with my truth and strong in my bones

I am done with apologizes

I am done with explanations

64

“On whom am I dependent? What are my main fears? Who was I meant to be at birth? What were my goals and how did they change? What were the forks of the road where I took the wrong direction and went the wrong way? What efforts did I make to correct the error and return to the right way? Who am I now, and who would I be if I had always made the right decisions and avoided crucial errors? Whom did I want to be long ago, now, and in the future? What is my image of myself? What is the image I wish others to have of me? Where are the discrepancies between the two images, both between themselves and with what I sense in my real self? Who will I be if I continue to live as I am living now? What are the conditions responsible for the development as it happened? What are the alternatives for further development open to me now? What must I do to realize the possibility I choose?”
— Erich Fromm, The Art of Being

Be my baby, Blue.

54

“Even though you may want to move forward in your life, you may have one foot on the brakes. In order to be free, we must learn how to let go. Release the hurt. Release the fear. Refuse to entertain your old pain. The energy it takes to hang onto the past is holding you back from a new life. What is it you would let go of today?”
— Mary Manin Morrissey

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

 

Still I Rise, Maya Angelou

XLIV

“Does everyone feel this way? When I was young, I was perpetually overconfident or insecure. Either I felt completely useless, unattractive, and worthless, or that I was pretty much a success, and everything I did was bound to succeed. When I was confident, I could overcome the hardest challenges. But all it took was the smallest setback for me to be sure that I was utterly worthless. Regaining my self-confidence had nothing to do with success… whether I experienced it as a failure or triumph was utterly dependent on my mood.”
— Bernhard Schlink, The Reader

Play:

 

Willow Smith is an anomaly. She is 15 and just came out with her first album (available on Spotify).

At age 13, she wrote and produced the first track in the playlist, Your Love. She writes music like she's been on the planet for decades. I had tickets to see her on Valentines Day, but I left the house too late, and only made it to see her chilling in the parking lot after the show in knee high glitter socks and converse. 

I connect to how she is experiencing her adolescent years, filled with moments of insecurity and uncertainty. Her songs "Roll Up" and "Chinese," struck me in particular, and reminded me of growing up and being a female in this backward world.

It's hard to be young. The world telling you who and what is important, and none of it applies to you.

At 23, I still not feel doubts I felt a decade ago, ask questions I asked a decade ago.