A Short Story Of Us. The wood falls again and we restack the logs criss-cross while sprinkling more dead leaves. I click the lighter and after a few breathless moments it ignites and we have a flame. Over the next hour I add and build to our fire, while you prepare dinner. Chicken sizzles on the grate above the heat and I hear you chopping vegetables inside the cabin. Tacos were always one of my favorites and you make the best ones. As I sit outside waiting, I put my book down and look up into the trees. My most loved time of day has come; The sunlight streams through the leaves
Read the room and have a little grace. What is a body Without a soul? Who does my body belong to If I am not in control? My body is Big Pharma Corporate consumerism Student debt My body is PMS? Take this pill You’ll be all set My body is An image Of a standard Society set My body is A career And expectations I have not met So I take these pills And voting kills All in a hope to pay the bills But My soul is Hopes and dreams yearning To achieve My soul is Love and support That make Me believe My
Photo by João Jesus Society’s definition of normal: ideal social life, career, body, knowledge, and personality. The real definition of normal: typical, expected, or average. Now in the definition of normal, conformity is a present theme, but tell me what is it we have to conform to? The real definition mentions nothing about an ideal person so why has it become society’s definition? Why has the word ‘normal’ become a label? I have a bit of a theory. In a world with tragedy and confusion, I believe we are all trying to find our own way and figure out how to cope with our own “stuff”. Nobody really knows how to do this