How to become real. This is a question, I often ask myself. Sitting here today and writing this I have to say I was never real. I was never allowed to be in order to survive. Would that be you fellow co-creators?
I have followed the wind that has been the strongest. I'm an actor in this plane of existence. I have many costumes. But down deep just who am I? Oh I know. Kathleen is a hippie who wanted to dance in the forest, the desert, and on the ocean, but had to make a living to raise her daughter in the logical and reasonable world. What would my life have become if I had been allowed to be me? If I had been strong enough to be me? Don't know. As age approaches and my body becomes more like an oak tree then a tender and plyable branch, I find myself sad that I didn't have the courage to be me. I'm sad that I couldn't do it when I was a tender, plyable branch and now must fight aches and pains and tough neuropathways that are glued into my brain down deep to get to me. And its the neuropathways that are the hardest to break up I think
I know.. I just know that there is light within me. But dammit, its so hard to let it shine.
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