Me, The Tree

That tree that you stare at, the tree in the window, that tree is you. So you say. But how can I possibly be a tree. A tree so tall and strong when little me is standing here talking to you. It’s a good question actually, I would of thought the same thing if by…

2019: THIS IS WHO I AM

We miss things. We miss ourselves. We are blinded by perfectionism. So much so that we no longer let ourselves in. No matter how hard we try. We walk past ourselves on the street, in our homes, at work. They yell at us as we pass them by. We pass them, blinded by doubt. Devoured…