It goes like this.
You make a decision; to stop being a lil bitch. Because actually, you ARE in paradise. What a waste it would be if you looked back and couldn't remember what you were belly-aching about.
So, you stand up and dust the sand off.
People don't decide who you are, no matter how often you think they do. And definitely no matter how often you think they think they do; it's all just inane chat in your tripped out brain.
So, you tilt your head and knock words out of your ears.
By now you've replaced sand for mud, palm trees for ferns, oceans for mountains.
You find yourself revelling in warm duvets, muddy boots and cups of tea.
You meander through time, unknitting the furrow in your brow. Your shoulders rest lower and you breathe deeper.
And yeah there's that full moon again, and yeah its serene. It's goes and comes, comes and goes.
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