When I was younger, I used my body for money. Any time I’m in a relationship or hear words such as ‘whore’, I’m reminded. It is the worst feeling, ever.
I’ve made a choice of selflessness, as I always do..
I’ve left my home, just to let him back.
Nomadic adventures, my life in a pack.
The bruises are fading, the physical almost forgotten.
Pain strikes my heart in a battle between:
heart&mind
to forgive& forget
to forgive& hold true to my worth.
“We’ve all made our choices, she said”
Mine is to never live in fear of someone I love ever again!
My choice of university. I could have chosen to attend a university that was higher in the “league tables”, but I chose on the basis of the course (where I can chose to specialize as much or as little as I like in the literature of various countries), and the city, its art and its atmosphere. It is a decision I am glad I made, and I am reminded of that constantly, despite the fact that sometimes people tell me I might regret it one day. And who knows, maybe I will.
The phrase “we’ve all made our choices” specifically recalls an extremely painful love triangle I was once a part of. But three and a half years on, and three and a half years into a fantastic relationship, I can’t say I regret the choice I made there either.
If I had followed my heart and attended the minor arts college that appealed to me, my life would have been totally different to what it is. I followed the scholarship instead. I don’t regret my choice, since it led me into a new life, but I wonder sometimes what my life would have been if I’d gone to KY.
I am happy now. Would I have been happy with that life? I wonder.
My choice of studies. I was going to be a psychiatrist and get in peoples minds. Instead, I’m to be a lawyer, and get in peoples minds a different way, especially with my specialisation.
T’is an odd thing to look at both sides, and I’m always pondering if I took the right one.
When I was younger, I used my body for money. Any time I’m in a relationship or hear words such as ‘whore’, I’m reminded. It is the worst feeling, ever.
Right now, I’m in the process of making choices. I seem to be choosing to move forward, and move on.
I’ve made a choice of selflessness, as I always do..
I’ve left my home, just to let him back.
Nomadic adventures, my life in a pack.
The bruises are fading, the physical almost forgotten.
Pain strikes my heart in a battle between:
heart&mind
to forgive& forget
to forgive& hold true to my worth.
“We’ve all made our choices, she said”
Mine is to never live in fear of someone I love ever again!
My choice of university. I could have chosen to attend a university that was higher in the “league tables”, but I chose on the basis of the course (where I can chose to specialize as much or as little as I like in the literature of various countries), and the city, its art and its atmosphere. It is a decision I am glad I made, and I am reminded of that constantly, despite the fact that sometimes people tell me I might regret it one day. And who knows, maybe I will.
The phrase “we’ve all made our choices” specifically recalls an extremely painful love triangle I was once a part of. But three and a half years on, and three and a half years into a fantastic relationship, I can’t say I regret the choice I made there either.
If I had followed my heart and attended the minor arts college that appealed to me, my life would have been totally different to what it is. I followed the scholarship instead. I don’t regret my choice, since it led me into a new life, but I wonder sometimes what my life would have been if I’d gone to KY.
I am happy now. Would I have been happy with that life? I wonder.
My choice of studies. I was going to be a psychiatrist and get in peoples minds. Instead, I’m to be a lawyer, and get in peoples minds a different way, especially with my specialisation.
T’is an odd thing to look at both sides, and I’m always pondering if I took the right one.
Life is made up of choices. And even when you don’t choose–you have already chosen.
I am intrigued by the figure in this drawing. Her body looks segmented, like a soccer ball. What is the symbol?
Yes I know. We each see our own.