I hope you find it. I don’t think it’s something you find, though. it is harder when your path is strewn with bodies, each one with a note of sorry pinned to it. a road paved with good intentions, but littered with personas.
to be free, you must take ownership of the bad things. for those things you may not say your sorry. it’s the price of freedom.
you don’t let someone else speak for you. ever. this should be obvious. freedom is before all freedom from fear.
the free carry their dead on their backs, up a hill, while their children hang from their skirts. freedom is love, and love has an earthly weight.
where were they when you were defenseless? a true friend will never leave you, even when you tell him to. the one who leaves because of threats or entreaties is a fair weather friend. the true friend must hang around, in case you get defenseless again.
friendship can not suppress freedom. what a sad and misguided thought that is. you climb to your freedom on the backs of your friends – those would be the ones you give you their back, not turn them on you.
when you learn about forever, I will still be here.