there have been moments when I felt like I could fix everything and walk on leaving healing and relief in my wake. As if I could stretch out my hand and make some benign gesture that would heal what’s gone so fucking dreadfully wrong for some of the people around me. I felt powerful. I felt majestic. The rest of the day I knew I was ordinary and lost and not powerful at all. I reach out to touch the pain and no matter what I can not fix it and it goes on being dreadful and I am immeasurably sad. And so it goes.


About pippa

40-something, yogi, gardener, reader and writer. Not great at any of those things but more than happy to be average. I'm anxious, depressed, chaotic, boring, delighted, excited and often foolish. It's all good. And cake.
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