That doesn’t mean I can’t care for you
That doesn’t mean I can’t protect you
That doesn’t mean I can’t love you
That doesn’t mean I can’t live
With you
And find comfort in the layers of your brown when you speak of her
Talk about her with grace
Call me beautiful
Tell them I hope she comes back
Don’t expose me as if you wouldn’t appreciate if I came back
Tell them she had a tender heart and she let me in for a while
Tell them the time was worth it Describe the memorable photos of her smile
Explain that she had a courageous laugh because when her lungs could not find enough oxygen to breathe
Her chuckles
Gave her strength to believe
That she would be ok
And she could and she would
I can

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Why I Am on Tumblr

I titled this entire blog as “First World Problems” because, well, my life is really not that bad. I know that. But, apparently, I can’t have opinions or share much of anything remotely personal on Facebook anymore without someone jumping on it and saying I am so wrong for that. I’m sick of following and sharing and being part of the crowd. Now, Instagram has been bought out by FB so I decided to try something new.

So maybe this will just be temporary or just a personal journal of sorts but I decided to try it out. I like to write but I’m not sure how many people actually like to read my stuff. I don’t want to fill up anyone’s newsfeed with my stuff.

But, don’t get me wrong, it’s still the Internet and we’ll see how easy I can track myself down and I know this must go somewhere into some search engine or is attached somehow to my email or other accounts so I’ll see where it goes.

I live in Mississippi so of course most of my aquantainces, friends, family, colleagues, etc. are very conservative. Even my moderate posts are somehow construed as being liberal and I think that is unfair. I actually consider myself a moderate but I do vote mostly for one party and I am not ashamed. I am not religious and by that I don’t mean I’m atheist, I just don’t worship socially. I’ll let you guess what catagory I fall into philosophically. I’m still working on that, so by the time you figure it out, well…

I try to be outgoing but it is difficult at times. I HATE when people try to define me and when I speak out, it seems like people do just that. I AM ME and no one else. I’m not just like your cousin or neighbor or whatever. And sometimes, it seems, no matter how hard I try, I just come out and say the wrong thing, at the wrong time, to the wrong person. WTH, I better stay quiet. Oh yeah, and I ramble, but you can probably already tell this. I don’t have an OFF button.