"Home is indeed where the heart is, a notion that, when I first really grasped its significance, would be able to make me the happiest girl in the world basically living in a clay hut in Burma for the rest of my days. The more I've come to realize the support and love from the fantastic people in my life, the further away from them I've felt comfortable being, odd but true. The tremendously safe comfort zone I've created back home gave me strength to leave it; it's as if the safer you are in what you call home, the more confident and secure you get to leave it and expand your horizons".
I don't know where it begins, nor where it ends. I'm no sure how I'll be able to grab the slippery little red line I so devotedly tied around my wrist many weeks ago (and so gracefully dropped in the Atlantic to watch it sink to the bottom). I'll think of something, once this gets out of my body. It's just a little hard climbing up on top of the mountain again with an infection weighing you down, slowing your roll, and frankly it's getting a bit boring down here now.
Goal: Dive to the bottom of the Atlantic and pick up the red line. Throw the infection in the garbage.
Deadline: Next week.
Inspiration is not about wanting what another person has, but touches the tip of the toe of your dreams and ambitions, a tingle run down your spine and you feel invincible. And you find yourself running down the street along side with exactly who you are and what you wanna do screaming "I can too!!"
The whole world is reduced to us and the atmosphere, I will breathe this sense of belonging and infinite love until we meet again whenever it is, time is just an illusion.