Source: Rdevany via wikicommons.org
I want to reach out to you dear reader who feel like Mount Everest left Nepal to settle on your shoulders and your knees feel sore from fall after fall trying to get that Mt. off your shoulders. Keep climbing even when you slip, I am climbing invisibly next to you . I am dragging myself up that mountain as well and if I slip or you slip again, we can pull up each other. Do not listen to the people who whisper tales about “how far down the mountain you are and you will never make, anytime soon.” Tell that person “then I will die trying,” and continue walking. So zip your coat higher, get some more water, tighten up these shoes, we are climbing Mount Everest to the top!
Encourage someone this weekend, spread the inspiration we need so much .
27th of March 2015
Dear Ms Vie,
I write this letter to you simply to ask, “What’s up.” Wipe out that confused look I know you are wearing now. Why are you – urgh – I mean you must know I would pop my head into your mail at some point? What are you doing to me and why are you doing it?
Am I a part of a continuous case study? If yes then you have enough research material, so just call it off, please. Enough is enough! I have had enough of mountain climbing lessons. Do you think if I have not learned what it is, I will ever get the concept? Speak in plainer words because I do not understand you.
You are suffocating with all that heat and very little wind to aid in my living. I know you like seeing me suffer; laugh now because you shall not laugh forever. You are misery spreading your miserable tactics, trying to pass it off as tough love. Hold your method of teaching lessons because it is not working. What do you want from me, just let me live. All I want is to work hard and reap benefits from that toil but you will not let me. Why?
Not Yours At All Noirfifre 😦
I choose the epistle form of poetry to address Ms La Vie aka Life. Yes, I wrote a letter to life to ask her what is going on with the way she treats me. Yep, you are thinking that I have some few loose screws but I have to write out those feelings or allow them to slowly poison. I choose venting in a letter any day over poison.