Sunday’s Song

I’m always trying to do and say the right things, yet somehow constantly coming up short in others eyes. I know, logically, that I can not make everyone happy, even with the best intentions. Yet, whenever I deem somebody to be upset about things (that have absolutely no bearing on me) I try time and time again to “fix” it.

I must learn the subtle art of not giving a fuck. Literally, I could care less. It appears to work out better for those who care less. Well … the others appear alive and fulfilled, but they are the walking dead. They’ve gone numb for self-preservation’s sake. They can’t see or hear you.

This means all the sugar I was spoon fed through my church upbringing is what now makes me sick. Being told to do unto others as you would do unto yourself (or is it: as you would have others do to you?) in principle, is lovely. Out here in the hard knock life, the reality is quite the opposite though. Everybody is looking for real and nobody is bringing real to the table. The most socially acceptable and fashionable means of intimacy is sexual, but sex does not equal love; and it does not quench our soul’s deep thirst for connection.

We’re left with sadness, feeling incomplete. Those feelings are valid;

And also, I am done with them.

Sunday’s Song

Wild hearts can’t be broken, baby girl.

It hurts, yes, but that’s growing pains.

I know you think you’re a mess, but trust momma, you’re just breaking chains years ahead of your time.

I’m proud of you. Stay woke.

No matter what anyone does, says or thinks about it, I’ll fight for us to know the truth. I’ll never surrender.

This is OUR rally cry.