the night is dark and long but the Aurora is close, you can feel the breeze as you forget my voice, broken words that come from an angel that was salve and witness of a bad role, to fire and magic I turn this is my end I give thanks to all the support in a cold world I am happy with what I got only God knows what is next salve and witness
My late grandmother’s name is Sheilia, and I swear I’ve never heard the name so much as I have since she passed. It’s everywhere, more people have it than I used to think. Hearing it is like a small blow to the stomach each time, and I find myself wondering if these strangers sharing her name are as great a human being as she was while simultaneously deciding that they can’t possibly compare. My grief sets them up for failure simply for possessing something they didn’t choose, no more than my grandma did.
“ It has made me better loving you... it has made me wiser, and easier, and brighter. I used to want a great many things before, and to be angry that I did not have them. Theoretically, I was satisfied. I flattered myself that I had limited my wants. But I was subject to irritation; I used to have morbid sterile hateful fits of hunger, of desire. Now I really am satisfied, because I can’t think of anything better. It’s just as when one has been trying to spell out a book in the twilight, and suddenly the lamp comes in. I had been putting out my eyes over the book of life, and finding nothing to reward me for my pains; but now that I can read it properly I see that it’s a delightful story. —Henry James ”