Epiphany Jane Takes the City

Choose the Path, Look Back, Laugh

The Dancer

"I’m so happy for you."

She says it with a smile, and no one else would recognize any lack of sincerity in her words. But I know her very well, and I know that slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. That small trembling of her lip signifies that there is more to her inner feelings than what she expresses. There is no way that she is completely happy for this couple. 

Everyone claps and cheers and clinks their glasses together, toasting to life and love and future joyous occasions. She joins in, but I see that, as soon as she can, she inconspicuously slips out to the ladies room to “powder her nose.” Not one member of the overwhelming crowd seems to consciously take note of her absence. I do though, and I highly doubt that she’ll choose to rejoin the festivities. More likely the cameras will soon pick up the image of a slight figure in red silk slipping through the back exit. Its not a cowardly escape. Its just a well-meant attempt not to detract from anyone else’s happiness with personal inner pain. 

I know how she feels. 

I sip my drink and lean my back against one of the stone columns. I am in the shadows where no one can see me surveying the scene. I like to keep out of the spotlight. The gold and crystal chandeliers above seem to glimmer even more as people begin to spill onto the dance floor. Its an upscale event so all the dancing is upscale as well. All the couples begin to waltz. I take another sip of my drink.  

When I was nine, my mother forced me to take ballroom dancing lessons. While other kids raced outside to play baseball and other dusty, sweaty, manly sorts of sports, I got to foxtrot in tight pants and a glittery vest. It was only at the age of fourteen that I finally gained enough of an adolescent backbone to refuse the dancing direction. 

In these later years I have come to appreciate those lessons. Its always a pleasant surprise when I take a date dancing and then suddenly, seemingly out of  nowhere, I whip out my Samba skills. It never fails to give me that intriguing air of mystery and romance. Its like a lick of honey, a whiff of love’s finest scent. The tiniest of tastes.

But tonight I’m just going to remain in the shadows, watching the figures step and swing. I will drain the last dregs of my drink and, as I do, I will keep thinking about that woman with the dark hair, ruby lips, and slightly quivering smile.

"Study buddies often turn into muddy buddies. But as long as there’s chocolate involved everything will always turn out alright in the end!

Think about it. Its deep.”

- Epiphany Jane

"Kids today are too shiny. They lack all the grit and grime that is authentic childhood."

- Epiphany Jane

matturday:

so I ended my english presentation with “these fatal flaws brought macbeth to his macdeath” and at least 60% of the class groaned

(Source: tinypups, via allthesesmallhours)

Choosing Yourself

That feeling of guilt

When you know that you’ve let someone down.

But you feel justified

Because letting them down meant choosing You,

Protecting You,

Saving You.

In that moment,

It may not feel good 

But that doesnt mean that you were wrong

To put yourself first.

You try your best to give when you can

But there are times when You just have to take care

Of Yourself.

And thats when You pray that others around you

See that You were just trying to save Yourself

So that later on in life you can & will be

Strong

Fierce

Powerful

And able to help them.

Or at least support them

In those moments when they try to protect

And save

And defend

And love

Themselves.

fairytalesfor20somethings:

Grumpy worked at the mine with the other dwarves, but he only did it because it gave him health insurance. His real passion was dance. 

fairytalesfor20somethings:

Grumpy worked at the mine with the other dwarves, but he only did it because it gave him health insurance. His real passion was dance

fairytalesfor20somethings:

Rumpelstiltskin tried his best to secure his identity, but every princess he stole a baby from guessed his name after a quick Google search. They also knew his date of birth, favorite movies, and the last ten restaurants he’d “checked in” at.

fairytalesfor20somethings:

Rumpelstiltskin tried his best to secure his identity, but every princess he stole a baby from guessed his name after a quick Google search. They also knew his date of birth, favorite movies, and the last ten restaurants he’d “checked in” at.

Tip to the Over-thinker Writer

Don’t over-think

Just breathe and write

Heart on the tip of your pen.

If you over-think

It spoils the simplicity of the

Art on the tip of your pen.

To over-think is to

Create a monster, a

Dart on the tip of your pen.

Even the term ‘over-think’

Can be over-thought, tasting

Tart on the tip of your pen.

So take a deep breath

and whisper the words:

I will not overthink.

I will relax.

I will breathe.  

And I will start, I will start,

I will start, i will

Start with the tip of my pen

Self Reborn

You find a moment in which you are completely in touch with your inner voice. All parts of you that criticize and try so hard to keep you in line are snipped away, leaving behind space for Self to breathe.

Then Self reaches out to pry open sealed doors and windows and to widen the cracks between the floorboards until nothing is completely shut; everything is open. Suddenly air can escape out and light can seep in and the world is no longer just black and white; it now is bathed in gray.

Perhaps there is less clarity in its most basic form. But sometimes, a strengthened and renewed sense of life direction rises up from the ashes of smoldering clarity.