There's no prize

This idea of working on yourself until you're ready to be lion-kinged up in the air and declared fit for love is weird to me. As if once fixed, you are now deserving of love. I'm not a get-well project; I'm human, after all. Why is being alone the new pink stove these days? There's no prize or medal to be won for my self-imposed exile from relationships. There's just aloneness with no finish line.


“Who we are and who we become depends, in part, on whom we love.”

― Thomas Lewis


Important things to me: vmb


I'm starting work a bit early today, as I'm off to see my dad with my sis this afternoon. Hopefully, his energy allows for a good visit. If not, sitting beside him and being in his presence will be just as sweet.



The Hideout -Sarah Harmer.