While I am alive, I can sign my name. No one else will ever sign my name. No one will ever have my name. It is perfect. I am perfect. Even my imperfections are perfect. I have love pumping through me for as long as I live. And my story will live after I die, even if just for a time. I will document my story from here to there, through words and images, art and compositions, fashion and fun. This life is a dream that walks a thin line from one time to another. Through rapids and bottlenecks, through dimples, dread, and desire. Down scary chutes and firm ascents, and up rickety ladders. It gets slow then fast then slow again. This is how we survive, and this is why. Our hearts are in it and they swell. Fear not, for it is the fear that leads us to what we are afraid of. Fear is a choice that leads back to itself. It iterates like fractals. It's time to leave fear and make the choice toward love, for Everything is Everything. The universe is gorgeous and perfect and wild. Tiny dots and bigger dots and massive dots. Dots that swirl around other dots, making giant blobs. The dream of the universe is what I know, for it's what I am. I wish to grow my own dreams into gardens of wishes and magic. The kind of magic that we can touch and hold and do. Real magic. Ancient magic (which is love and love, alone). I love what I do, I love my friends, I love my family. I only ask for the courage to stay calm, and breathe, and trust that I am a part of everything, and everything is a part of me.
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