I am unsure as to who she is. Right down to decorating where we now live. I realize, I do not know what my style is. Or rather, I am afraid to decorate.
I have big dreams. At one point, I was afraid to dream them, write them, breathe life into them. As life threw its shit at me, as I stood and faced staunchly the fuckery people call trials, as I listened to the whole "God gives the biggest struggles to his best soldiers" spiel, I learned.
What? That it won't get done if I don't do it. That if I waited for those I needed, on a lot of them I would still be waiting. That, if I put myself on the edge to rely on those who swear they will be there, I open up to a risk.
The risk of being disappointed.
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