My best friend recently visited. One of those friends I hope everyone would have … to lean on when life gets colder.
We danced to forgotten music from our youth until our feet ached, and cried for all that has come to pass, as only exiled do. At dawn we walked across the sleeping city pretending we are in a different city and still young. To watch the sunrise over the bay I once wrote a poem at.
Before she left, she smiled that slow smile of knowing and said: ‘You are still the same … but you must remember to be yourself.’ And left me with ‘On Being Yourself’ … neither of us knows who the author is, but we love it for its simplicity and truthfulness.
On Being Yourself
You must learn that you cannot be loved by all people.
You can be the finest…
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