by Marisa Siegel
Shame is something I don’t really care about. It wouldn’t be true to say I have none, but not much. Shame is mostly about other people.
(I spend a lot of time worrying about other people despite being so unapologetic.)
What does it mean that I can remember so clearly and then also not remember at all? I intended today to write only in straight lines but I am feeling circles.
I lost three seasons this year. Summer is up in the air. Time is precious but if I worry about what’s been lost I’m still losing. Don’t think for a second that I don’t understand.
(Understanding means very little for me. I try to accept what I can. I won’t accept what I cannot.)
About intention, there is just no hidden agenda. That’s mostly about other people, and this is not.