birdmad Atlas and the weight of the world 010125
klrchen Deep in my heart I hold a sorrow,
I must be quiet to the outside world,
The pain so loved by me I hide within,
Deeply from the outside world,
And my soul alone can feel it,
For my body does not want it.
Like a spark, free and shining,
hides inside the flame,

Deep inside I hold my sorrow.
gwyllynne knees
and toes
dean-bean mine curve toward the ground. It happened when I beat my ego into submission. I think I broke it, but I'm much less of a jerk now. 010329
dB Some say it's a chip. It's more an iceberg than a chip. Genetics graced me with a mean face and really big shoulders.
It's a burdon. The weight of my shoulders is crushing my spine. People see me walking down the street, and they cross the road to avoid getting in my way. They look at my face and my shoulders and my arms, and I can read the look on their faces; "shit. I'm getting out of here. Don't want to mess with this guy."
I hate it. It's good being strong, but sometimes I wish genetics didn't make me the way I am.
nom i have to stop slouching and scrunching up my shoulders 061006
native persimmon so sore from a full day of climbing, but I find satisfaction in the externalizing of aches - they are undeniably real, I know why they are there, and when they've vanished. 061007
what's it to you?
who go