I feel like I spend a whole lot of my life just trying to pick up the pieces. It's like I just gather up everything I can to try to make that day work and hope I can just hold it in my arms long enough to get through. I'm getting a lot better at it. I can juggle backpacks, karate gear, laptops, lunches, stuffed animals….
I know from the outside it looks like I have it all together, that I have a plan. I know this because that is what people tell me. But I don't. I'm just making it up as I go along, trying to do the best I can. Maybe that's what we are all really doing. We all spend our lives trying to hold on to as many things as we can to make the day work.
I guess that's why some people develop addictions. Its something to hold on to. I was fortunate enough to find writing early on in life. I hold on to that. No matter what, I can write. Even if I'm just writing in my journal, its a place to store all of those things I'm trying to hold on to, all of those pieces. If I'm lucky, those pieces will find their way into poems. Right now though, my poetry is broken. Those pieces are too scattered.
I guess that's why I cross stitch too. I can take a mess of string and turn it into something. The pieces of color start to take shape and form a picture. Chaos becomes ordered. I really wish there was a pattern for life where you could just look at the pattern, follow the guide for the symbols, and put all of the pieces in the right order.
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