Post Secret

I hope my ex-husband gets nailed every night in prison.

Comment: And i hope every night that my brother won't get touched.

And in my stories, I try to be big enough to take it all in. I cannot, but at least I try I think, and I like what I see in myself and how I am dealing. I also like the conclusions I come to. I think they are good.

So I once said that he was no monster, but a man who had failed at life. I then recognized today, somewhere between the pantry and my glass office, that I was no angel, but a woman who tries too hard at life.

"Listen carefully because I'm only going to say it once: You're Human."

~ Carla Espinosa from Scrubs.

So what do we think we are? Risen apes or fallen angels, or somewhere inbetween? One for others and another for us? It makes all the difference, from worship to diffidence, but neither side prevails. It is probably harder for us to admit to ourselves the truth of the matter, and so we turn to all kind of myth and legend and god to translate what we instinctively know to be true, to be near and to be at heart, into a language-figure far removed. So we can look at it from a distance and say "here is your answer" and "this is why we are".

Not realizing that we really don't have to hold onto the things that break us, even if they hold on to us.