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Born first out of everyone.

Be perfect.

Dreams taken away, childhood taken away.

Be perfect.

Work from spring morning to winter dusk.

Be perfect.

Work for only pride.

Be perfect.

Last chance, first break.

Be perfect.

**** your time.

Be perfect.

Lynch your imagination.

Be perfect.

Bomb your audition.

Be perfect.

**** your body.

Be perfect.

Forced to fight his vision.

Be perfect.

Pay the ultimate price.

Be perfect.

Sell you endless lies.

Be perfect.

Sell lies to your friends.

Be perfect.

Forced to live a new life.

Be perfect.

Uninspiring schools.

Be perfect.

Puts you in despair.

Be perfect.

Bitten by critics.

Be perfect.

Water leaves more thirst.

Be perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfe­ct, for everybody else.

But when does perfection become self-loathing?
We are all but dancers
In the rhythm of life
While some seem to dance it perfectly
Some can't get the steps down right

Don't let that stop you from dancing
We each have our own heartbeat
Whether or not you are sure footed
Or if you were born with two left feet

Though we often feel that life can be
A large gymnasium at times
Waiting for someone to dance with us
As we sit on the side

Instead of waiting to be asked to dance
Like so many often do
Where ever it is you are right now
You can dance just for you

Perhaps a ballerina floating gracefully
Across life's massive stage
Giving your own rendition
To the beauty of swan lake

Or dancing to the river
Perhaps something in modern style
Whatever dance it is you deliver
How ever far it is the mile

Dance like there's no tomorrow
To your very own rhythm
For no one else can dance like you
The dance that you've been given
When life has finally done me in
Put me in an old tin can
Toss my ash into the wind
When life has finally done me in

Say a little prayer for me
Just before you set me free
As I float upon the gentle breeze
Say a little prayer for me

So my memory will not be lost
And I'm forever in your thoughts
Purchase the field in which I was tossed
So my memory well not be lost
 Oct 2013 Jackie Andary
laura
When he finally asks what’s wrong, tell him that he’s really just too good for you and you're afraid that one day he’ll wake up and realize that he could sleep with so many better women.
When he leaves the apartment and gets in the back of a taxi cab at two in the morning, don't follow him.
Maybe even though you saw him with another woman, laughing and joking in a smoky bar with their heads held close together, you still think you have a shot with him.
You don’t.

Dress yourself up if for no other reason than making yourself feel good. Put on your tightest, tiniest little black dress and some high heels and have a dance party in your own room with the stereo blasting.
Throw away his photos. Delete his texts, crumple up his notes and slot them into the paper shredder like old credit cards.
Thinking about him is dangerous; do not lie in bed in a quivering heap for days at a time. Do not mope or hit the snooze button simply so you can drift off to sleep and dream about him.
Jump in the shower and wash him out of your hair. Scrub your skin raw until you cannot smell him anymore. Wash your sheets. As you take them out of the dryer, practice saying your first and last name with adding his on.

Wreck your journal. This is the required “fresh start” your best friend told you about on New Years. She is tough and practical. Consider being more like her. Decide against it because having an affair with your husbands best friend is not practical.
Let your thoughts flow into questions that you pose to the world. Tell yourself that this is not an unfortunate habit.
Remind yourself that today in the modern world, if you’re single, that doesn't mean you’re missing “your other half.”  There isn't someone else out there running around with two arms and two legs and one head who used to be attached to one side of your body and will eventually find you again, on the street or in a deli or even at an indie rock concert in the back row; there’s just you. An imperfectly perfect human being who likes coffee or maybe hates it and has said awful, regrettable things to somebody else and is still trying to figure out how this whole life thing works.

When you are on the couch of your living room, do not reach out to squeeze the faces in the smoke you blow; do not think of his face. Reach out and draw the lines in your mothers face. She would have wanted you to.
Might edit this!
 Oct 2013 Jackie Andary
marina
i forgot to tell you earlier that
i've dreamt about you every night
this week, and this morning when i
woke up i thought it was winter,
but i was warm anyway.
does this even make sense?
idk, but i think i'm in love with this dude.
Woke up this morning
To a powerful draw
Stepped out on the porch
Heeding the call

All of my neighbors
Were out there with me
Willing and able
To fill the powerful need

All went to the right
Not a one turned to the left
Came to the towns edge
Then went straight ahead

We walked on for days
We were far out of town
Not knowing the way
Nor where we were bound

We just  followed the pull
That tugged at our hearts
The roads became full
All with the desire

We came to a field
People throughout the land
The world came together that day

~And interlocked hands~
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