In the center of the square, there dwells a man. Some call him lost. Others call him homeless.
I call him The Matcha Man. And I know him as Story Teller. 358 more words
My demons of self-loathing and rage need conquering, integrating. Fighting them isn’t the point, won’t work. They need to be understood, defanged, resolved.
I was raised to view all mistakes as catastrophic, as personal failures, as huge things that endangered the future. 606 more words