When I am quiet on the inside, I don’t mind the chaos outside. But now I’m chaos inside and all I want to do is sort the laundry.
Four years clear and still I wrestle the question radiation burned into my soul–a confounding memorial to cancer, “Who am I if not what I can do?”
How is it that he’s such a terrible listener, but has somehow heard everything I’ve never said to anyone?
I wish I had known from the start how softly pride could speak.
We come to these crossroads in life–a thousand possible futures before us–all appealing, all terrifying. What to do, where to go, how to get there? This is the fun part. : )