today, and this time last year, and this time the year before that, i've posted the same essay on facebook. an essay on the dis-ease of being busy. and each year, it seems to come at the most perfect time. i'm not sure whether november the 9th is a particularly tough day for me, or just falls during a time of the year during which i tend to beat myself up more than other times. either way, this essay comes to me like a gift. a reminder. a nudge.
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one of those march days.
from ffion mckeown's instagram.
whatever.
"you can't just march back into someone's life, I tried to say, but it came out: oh, yes, well"
fat ladies floated in the sky like balloons, Amanda Davis
on time, and moving on.
"A week after the discovery of the doodled flower, I'd resigned myself to its insignificance [...] and as the maples around campus began to hint of resurrection and the maintenance crew began mowing the grass in the dorm circle again, it seemed to me we had finally lost her."
John Green, Looking for Alaska
on finding a way out
"'We are all going,' McKinley said to his wife, and we sure are. There's your labyrinth of suffering. We are all going. Find your way out of that maze."
John Green, Looking for Alaska