if being in rehab taught me anything, it's that i don't know much.
but i dare to drip a dribble or two of wisdom...
children are smart. too smart. don't ever lie to them.
there once was a dishonesty, an evasiveness, a thick, black hamlet-ian weight loading every answer presented to the little-red-haired-girl. skunk foul stench. an ominous mood impossible to smother with even the brightest and tightest of smiles. plans too calculated, excuses too knitted and pearled; ballooning the old adage, truth is stranger than fiction.
for the truth is what a little girl wants. no games. not even truth or dare.
i also learned, that i love to write. more than i ever loved to act.
[demons and dreams, structure and scenes...oh, can i sprout, soar with new wings...?]
and finally i learned, that it's not all about me. and sometimes you take a grateful step back...
...and let someone else's gift...
fly you to the moon...
(click on letter to enlarge.)
Ah... Miss Jess. Love you Hen.
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