Watch Your Fucking Language and 5 Minutes to Change the Next 50 Years of Your Life

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When we were little girls we were told to be ladylike. Don’t talk too loud. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Let the boy come to you. When we were grown, we were told to find a man to take care of you. Be a delicate flower. Be thin. Be anything but yourself. Don’t eat on a date. Don’t drink too much. Blend in. Be the wallflower. Be demure. Be, be, be, but don’t be you.

I was never the quiet girl. I was never the one to follow the crowd. I was the unicorn. The girl with the big boobs that weighed 150 lbs. and was thought of as fat. The one that decided rebellion was a good thing. I laughed too loud. I swore a lot. I drank, smoked cigarettes and weed, but I was the good girl too. And did I LOVE boys! I wore clothes to reflect my mood for the day. I didn’t belong to any group or clique. Just flitted from clique to clique like a butterfly lighting on the blooms in a garden. I belonged everywhere and nowhere, and that was okay.

As I get older, the butterfly that flitted from group to group is tired and looking for a home. I still belong everywhere and nowhere. I think part of it is because I was adopted and might still be feeling lost from that. It’s not healthy to be feeling abandoned at this age. I know that this thought is of my own making, and I have to be the one that steps away from that sorry and into the light.

So today I say fuck the fuckers, and use my loud voice. I’m the girl with the big boobs. I’m the girl that is not the typical beauty. I’m not a delicate flower, nor do I want to be. I want to be the girl that rages against the dying of the light. It’s time for me to be, be, be and to the real me. I am a goddess rising, a butterfly and a unicorn. I’m not just a manic pixie dream girl, hell bent on being the sidekick.

I’m the dreamer and the dream, in charge of my own destiny. So what if I say fuck, a lot!?

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That Light, That Chaos, That Beauty

Stopped on the side of the road.

Camera in hand.

Wind whipping in my hair.

Lightning bugs no longer adorn the fields of this late summer night.

I’m giddy with delight at the sight of lightning.

Not sure what it is about it, but it makes me smile.

Makes me calm.

Makes my Spidey Senses tingle.

Makes me, me.

I lean against my pretty blue car.

Feel the bass of a song by Super Tramp beating through the steel.

I hold the camera up and giggle.

I keep snapping away.

Hoping for the light, the tingle, the electricity.

Then, it happens.

I capture it.

I laugh out loud as the shutter clicks.

I check the camera roll and see.

That light. That chaos. That beauty.

I think, that’s me.

That light. That chaos. That beauty.

It is me.