Stone smiles gathered about me, urging something, but the meaning was unclear
I’m getting this wrong – but my gut says I’m right.
Why don’t the eyes match the mouths on these people? Too preoccupied to allow the softening of soul
My gut says know
And so
I follow it.
This does not win friends and influence people.
But I can’t stay here for long
It’s bound to lead to spiritual rickets,
nosebleeds and charm deficits and so
I go…
I have no memory of when it’s not been this way.
To measure up to the crowd-sourced standard of value and goodness.
Conform and trade and the happy accident of celebrating obedience.
Outcast or broadcast – these are the choices.
The cool kids will understand that you do not belong.
But you do belong
you belong to yourself, and so long as that is not betrayed,
you will have won the battle against selling your soul
A World Made Out of Stories 