Death and Nature do Contend about them

I’m attempting to trick my mind into believing my room is a cafe, because my Room the Cafe is free, but before I continue with that attempt:

I’m doing research on Macbeth; it’s my favorite Shakespeare play because every time I read it I realize what a crazy-ass BAMF Lady Macbeth is. She has the most fantastic lines

The raven himself is hoarse, that croaks the fatal approach of Duncan under my battlements

Your face, my thane, is as a book where men may read strange matters . . .look like the innocent flower but be the serpent under’t

Screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we’ll not fail

I woke today with the determination to live my life the way I want to live it, and to not apologize for it. I worry that I miss so much by being overly cautious, by holding myself back from what I want because of some voice in my head. I’m not unhappy, I don’t want to give that impression. But I live in an amazing city and I have the opportunity to do amazing things. I don’t want to look back and realize I just existed here, rather than lived here.

I want to go to Paris in the Spring. I want to drive through Ireland and dig my toes into the sand and the sea.

I want to have the courage to do the things that my cautious nature gives me pause to do.


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