flutterbye

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: We all want everything to be okay. We don’t even wish so much for fantastic or marvelous or outstanding. We will happily settle for okay, because most of the time, okay is enough.

How do we forgive ourselves for all of the things we did not become?

Nobody was perfect. Not even close. And everybody had wrinkles from smiling and squinting and craining their necks. Everybody has marks on their bodies from years of living- a trail of life left on them. Evidence of all the adventures and sleepless nights and practical jokes and heartbreaks that had made them who they are.

Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.

I don’t want to prove anything; I merely want to live, to do no one harm but myself.