I want to live my life,
remembering that today, I am better than yesterday.
Each time I leave my home,
I want to think people will be able to determine who I am. Conversely, as they
enter into my front door, the “me” I aim to project, comes blaring out of the
stuff, scatters around the room, flings off the walls, envelopes the observer
with my energy. They can surely proclaim I am determinably conscientious, an
animal enthusiast, a spiritual but not religious person, a woman with a zillion
friends, gluttonous reader of everything save Science Fiction, productive and
consistent entrepreneur, a casually quirky dresser, thrifty yet not terribly frugal,
voracious contributor to the environment, typically friendly, habitually happy,
relatively secure, striving to be fit, pragmatically health-conscious, not
easily intimidated, pseudo organized, accessible twenty-four hours a day, hyper-energetic,
and faithfully free.
And, if I die, everything
will be findable.
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