“I am here.”
Sometimes that is all we need to have acknowledged.
To know that we have been seen.
To know that we have not been born, lived and died without leaving some sort of mark on the world we inhabit.
Some of us scream this out loud.
Others go about this process quietly and without fanfare.
I wish I could be one of the quiet majority.
But that is not in my nature.
I am like the peacock strutting around the gardens with his tail plumage screaming “Hey!!! Look at me!! Aren’t I magnificent??!!!!”
My life becomes an open book. A tabloid magazine. A car crash that you can’t stop looking at.
It would be nice to blend into obscuri