There is a fellow I know who tells me he is happy, and that he little cares how others view him. And so each night when he visits me, he speaks of how lonely and unfulfilled he feels. So I provide whispers and promises to him of what he could do, and that is anything. Yet he clouds himself in the deliberations of a logic that does not serve him but serves against him.
He makes me sad, this fellow. I told him this. He makes me profoundly sad because he is capable of so many things. He makes beautiful art that he calls ugly. He says beautiful words that he does not understand. He has an opportunity to have the moment, and allow even the things as envy and jealousy craft the floor beneath his feet. Yet there he sits still. Not hopeless, but not hopeful either. His practicality, the very thing that could save him, instead proves his undoing.
Our hearts are soft as feathers, sharp as daggers. Be careful which end you grip because whether you believe it or not, you are a powerful thing. Never forget this.
Sometimes our biggest adversary's are the walls we build within ourselves. Tools of whisper can be a guide but some guide's can't walk by themselves. Though sometimes words have a way of sticking where you least expect them.
Sometimes our biggest adversary's are the walls we build within ourselves. Tools of whisper can be a
