CXV

Let live. Let yourself live. Let your mind live. Let you heart live. Let live.

[Images via unknown, American Apparel]

CXIV

One bad day does not define you. One bad day does not tell the world who you are. One bad day is seen by few, but a life time of well lived and loved moments is seen by many. And even then, the many aren’t important. It’s you. Only you. One bad day needs to sit ok with you. You’re the only one you’re answering to.

Can I let you in for a second? One bad day doesn’t matter to me anymore, and know, I've had a few. When it gets to feeling that way, I know it’s not me or my fault or my failure or my disappointment. Because the only one to be disappointed is you. And I get to choose. No need to run it by the masses, or check yourself against the scoreboard. What scoreboard again? There isn’t one. It’s in your head. No one else is watching, only you. And if they are… well they’re facing some stuff too. So let them in, and learn a little, and be a point of difference til they’re through with that nasty game. Then you’ve made a difference to someone, someone other than you. And the scoreboard’s looking pretty good, and for once maybe its true.

Let live. Let yourself live. Let your mind live. Let you heart live. Let live.

[Image via APiece APart]

CXIII

You have to believe it to see it come to pass.

You have to know deep in your heart what you can't see with your tired eyes.

You have to stand tall and walk proud, though you may not know where you're going.

You have to show them, or no one will. 

[Image: Bambi for Glamour Spain]

CXII

Hey darlin' don't do it all on your own. 

[Images Unknown, Maison Margiela 2016, backstage Calvin Klein SS 2015, Dior Fall 2014]

CXI

I feel humbled by love.

That the world would turn, and fires would burn, and harsh words spoken, and children cast out of their homes, and all the while I sit here hearing words of love washing over me.

It’s an insanity. It’s an injustice. It’s an unfair advantage I live my life upon, sometimes aware, more often ignorant. I worry the small stuff, and it’s hard not to when nothing that monstrous ever comes your way. Divorce, bankruptcy, unemployment, listlessness – but never murder, never natural disaster, never innocence exploited or body ravaged or freedom denied or stomach indefinitely empty. I live the good life, of that I am sure.

And all I have, it seems in these moments at least, is my response. To the TED talk I saw on the crisis of modern day slavery – my response. To the mis-portrayal in the media of a close friends integrity – my response. To the implicit prejudice in the words of one stranger to another – my response.

Or perhaps, my silence. If words are what I’ve been given then it’s words I am obliged to use, yet so often I don’t find them swiftly enough, or bravely enough, or honest enough. Sometimes I don’t find them at all. And there it is, in the spaces between who I am and who I could or should or would have been, that the insanity, and the injustice, and the unfair advantage heap themselves on top of me.

I may not be at fault, but I am certainly responsible. Responsible for my response. And even if that’s all I have, if I don’t give it with my all, it is worthless for sure.

That these words were written less than 24 hours before the tragedy unfolded in Paris, is a sharp intake of breath among many, these past few days.