#getting older
As we get older things change and people change and sometime people grow closer while other people grow apart. There is nothing we can do about it its just the way it is.Sometimes we know that we are growing apart but we don’t want to believe it. It is a sad truth.
I have had many friends in my life and many of them have left as I got new friends. I know that some of my friends right now might not be my friends in the future. Some friends I miss some I could care less.
the thing you need to remember is to not be sad about it. they were in your life for a reason. You learned from them on who you are as a friend and as a person. You also learn what kind of people you do not want as a friend because not all friends are good one and can hurt you.
Even though you have grown apart you will always have that time together and that will last forever.
~Jayme H
Older Black gay men in long term relationships are rarely covered or seen by main stream media.
‘I am pursued by a formless being:
it gives constant chase, so I live fleeing—
first plucking the Sun, as I might fruit to eat,
it strides across the sky with a hunter’s feet;
its Brobdingnagian limbs now cross the land,
where it catches the moon in one clawed hand—’
'time,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1271
‘the days uncoil;
strips of rain—
I will not shiver under this 'slaught again;
I will miss not the times, but Time—
that great beast— I have never trapped him;
still, I do not let him go with ease.
—what happens in the dryness?’
'the days of the desert,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1267
Goodmorning Vietnam!!!!! - Robbin Williams
Coffee is my life line. Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t breathe in my direction until I have had my coffee.
Or I’ll poke you in the eye.
On a more positive note, it’s almost my birthday, which means it’s almost time for the cottage. MY HAPPY PLACE HERE I COME.
I feel absolutely thrilled about being another year older. On the other hand, presents…. pizzaaaa….. presssseeentsssss….
jedgysfyilgwigfdewfd
Ah. Ooops. Turns out keyboards don’t function too well when you drool on them.
The tires sag as we pack the car,
Like a funeral march well-rehearsed
A carnival so many years gone
That left its relics rusting in the woods,
Much like the car, where we take what we can,
Leave what we can’t.Remember when were children, our eyes wild and bright?
When was that? Would you tell me again and again?
Would you sing me to sleep, of how we wandered the shore?
Like explorers, ravenous and relentless.
Like we were children, our eyes so wild and bright.I look over my shoulder,
I thought they were so close behind,
So close that I could hear footsteps in the path,
I could smell the blossoms hang above us,
As we march home, our eyes sunlit and full.
I close my eyes and I can still see it, still feel it if I try.And then it disappears; it’s chased after our love,
Joined them where they have gone,
Where it is still wild and bright.
I wonder whether time remains to play one more time,
Or is it rushing away? Is it already gone?And whether it is over, whether not,
And whether it amounts to anything, whether not,
To have known you is to have known paradise.
To have seen you is to have seen paradise.
I hope you will guide me home,
to where it is always wild and bright.
I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free. (…) I want, I think, to be omniscient
Sylvia Plath
Midnight selfie / midlife self-portrait.
My brain was like
