Sometimes my brain drags.
My sight gets bleary, my potential gets weary.
Then I wish for an injection of hope.
Make my hope dose from crisp sunny spring air, new music, and happy love hormones shot straight into my heart.
Infuse it with the shivered pleasure of unproductive guilt-free time spent wandering and looking and laughing at my day and then shoot that straight into my bloodstream.
Throw in a giddy grand dose of naughty and a plate full of buttery cinnamon raisin toast and place these between the old and new layers of my skin. And let it happen when I’m not looking.
Add to all of that a courageous jolt of myself at 15 so I can feel what my potential can be again. I want to be jazzed about my time here on Earth. I want to feel deeply what is meant for me, my purpose bubbling up under my skin straight through to fuel my soul. I want to be outrageous, offensive, and large.
And sprinkle all that with the wafting Good Will from a chuckle of friends sharing a truth between themselves in a lunchtime parking lot, the proof that nothing has ever been a waste of time.
And then I will know.
Then I will know.
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