  CUT THE STRING I imagine I will always have this feeling of vague dissastisfaction. One minute there is endless opportunity, the goal is in sight, then the finish line, then nothing left to cross.
I remind myself. Another ending is near, and in the end it doesn't ever matter how good it all sounded then. I have people to face and balls of yarn to unravel, trim, and snip off. Perfection isn't possible and what are dreams for if not to wake from.
I seek a new path to absorb myself into. I will avoid those who suffer from self-importance this time. I have paid for my admittance to this show in more ways than one. July is change and letting go and the universe seems a lot more trustworthy to me than people if I am any example. The balloon rises into the sky and is caught by the wind up, up, up. 
