"sometimes, i question the meaning of life."

he looked at me in horror.

(dying is easier than living.)

i want to live with purpose. to really live.


so many questions last year

WHY did i break up with him? WHERE am i going with my life?

WHEN will i leave canberra? WHAT do i really want?

HOW will i know?

unable to sleep one night,

i instinctively fished this from packing boxes.

i may not have answers. but this.

Allow your judgments their own silent, undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be forced or hastened... Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn't force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient, who are there as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent and vast. I learn it every day of my life, learn it with pain I am grateful for: patience is everything!
Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke -


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