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deer in the headlights

all of the sudden a few things cross my mind here's a preemptive

table of contents which means I

haven't written anything yet and maybe I shouldn't so bear with me

page 1 deer metaphor reminder to look up what a pack of

deer is called page 2 something about our world social media

the weather things are different page 3 goodwill is a museum now

page 4 how to be the very best at everything in 10 easy

steps page 5 social media again but it's okay it's honestly

a metaphor for persistence, for invasion,

for dissatisfaction page 6 priorities page 7 conclusion


I think maybe I should explain.

I'll start with the deer?


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page 1 deer metaphor



I'm a deer,

a doe

caught in the headlights


I'm running from something, probably

they're tearing up my homewoods a few blocks away,

I know that, and

things aren't the same as they used to be within

my herd.

everything seems to be changing

but I changed with it

everyone changed with it,

we're always changing with it.


right.

the headlights, the road.

not the first thing on my mind, or the last

not my ultimate worry but the one right in front of me

what are you going to do with your life?

freeze


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page 2 something about our world



everything seems to be different, now

I have a photo

or the ability to have a photo

of everything I do

I spend hours manipulating them

to look the way I want them to

sometimes I share them,

sometimes I sit on them

sometimes I think about sharing them

before I take them


everything seems to be different, now

it's 50 degrees and raining

in decemeber

I have my window open, I would know


it hasn't snowed in big windy drifts

it hasn't snowed until april

it hasn't iced over the road like it used to

not in a long time


everything seems to be different, now

people know what you do and don't think

before it comes out of your mouth


people are watching, but mainly

watching themselves

watching themselves

watching themselves.


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page 3 goodwill is a museum



goodwill is a museum

at least it is to me

I find art in there

more than I would in any

high vaulting fancy white walled building


goodwill is a museum

I know because it asks me what I like

and what I don’t like

it asks me to think,

tells me that giving my opinions freely

is not a crime, but double checks with me

why don’t you like that? and

what if you did?


goodwill is a museum

I understand when I walk past the

rows of discarded art

racks of discarded clothes

rooms of discarded things

all left for someone new to delight in

what use has the artist

for something she is done creating?


goodwill is a museum,

for everyone

and it always has been

it’s not about whether

you have the qualifications to speak your mind

it’s about entering anyway,

finding what you like,

and leaving the rest behind


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page 4 how to be the very best at everything



to be the best,

in my field

is toxicity

can you understand why

I no longer want this?


the most important thing my mother ever told me was

there will always be someone better than you

she was right

I didn’t ask how she found out

but she was right

and now

I wouldn’t dare to raise a child

without telling him this first


wanting to be the best

got me a lot of places, sometimes

soaring dangerously near the best

my new wings only reminding me

they would never be enough


even now I know

I’m not pretty enough

I’m not strong enough

I’m not talented enough


well

not enough to be the best anyway

is it starting to make sense?


I’ve been known to do things quickly

and poorly

just to get them done

see: the dishes


and in my field

I laugh

I don’t own anything

but in my field

I’m no good


I don’t paint good enough

sketch good enough

design properly enough


well

not enough to be the best


I’ve hated every time I feel my

pulseracing and

my heartbeatquickening

feverishlytryingtooutdomyself


and I’m done with it


how to be the best

in 10 easy steps:


don’t


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page 5 social media again



I’m so distracted

I wasn’t made to scroll


______________________________


page 6 priorities



what if I spent my entire life with

just-you

instead of trying to climb a ladder

would that be enough

for the audience I’ve acquired?


what if I went on picnics with

just-you

madly in love over

the color of blackberries

would that be enough

for the people insisting I will be married?


what if I freed myself

of trying to be the best, a standout, a skillset,

a suit jacket

and instead pick up a shovel

or a milk carton,

things that everyone can do

but I think about

just-you

with every movement


what if I’m in love first, and then alive,

and then employed,

and then

I die


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page 7 conclusion



maybe my college degree was in

learning to love you

and not in

employment



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page 8 epilogue



as if this life was about money

as if


as if the best parts of mine weren’t about

worship and

friendships and

travelling and

bakeries and

family and

poetry and

salvation and

late nights and

cloud gazing and

writing and

crying and

waitressing and

studying and

learning and

growing and

changing and

hugs and

candles and

reading and

redemption and

drinking tea and

waiting and

goodbyes and

silence


and you want me to chase money


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