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Philosophical cow dung on the life of little Ms. Imperfectly Fine.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

11 a.m

So, I didn't cry buckets. I didn't cry into the sea. Trust my mischievous heart not to allow myself to break down and break apart.

Have I dealt with my fears? Have I lifted the guilt and buried the misery of unspoken sincerity? Maybe yes sounds more hopeful than maybe no, but are they not the same?

Maybe they are...

I suppose this is one of those days that refused to be dismissed as just any other days. It's a day that shall determined the strength of my convictions, my sense of purpose.

So, I'll trust what's left of my heart to whisper to the half that was given away, not to flinch or falter as they try to prove us wrong.