Birds still chirp their fucking hearts out on crap days,
Like a karaoke star who’s totally lost his way.
And flowers? They’re gatecrashing funerals with sass,
Whispering, “Was it our fucking fragrance, perhaps?”

People scatter when shit really starts to hit the fan,
Quicker than I say “fuck it” to my diet plan.
But the ride-or-dies? They stick like fucking glue,
Like that piece of gum on your shoe, never bidding adieu.

The moon’s up there, changing her damn mind,
Like me in front of the fridge, a late-night find.
So hey, give yourself a break, don’t stress the fucking phase,
We’re all just bumbling through life’s mad, crazy maze.

In the cracks and crevices, we find our fucking groove,
Dodging life’s big-ass feet, we move and we improve.
Escaping the drizzle, dodging the damn pee,
We’re the fucking misfits, making it, wild and free.

So when life feels as tough as a week-old fucking baguette,
Remember, we’re rocking this shit, no need to fret.
In this grand ol’ mess, we might seem fucking small,
But we’re damn well blooming, giving it our fucking all.

It’s like I’ve been trying to get somewhere my whole entire life, but
hitting every red light along the way.
ITS Like my brakes go out
thousands miles too soon.
And like I burn
thru way too much gas after filling,
and I can’t even trryyy to justify
the wear n tear of the motor.
I have Been spinning my wheel
and getting nowhere
for as long as I can remember.
I’m running on fumes.
My tires are bald.
I’m one blow out away from
swerving into oncoming traffic.
My dreams are in the passenger seat
with a broken seat belt, a drunken smile,
and an empty bottle of vodka
that I haven’t gotten the courage
to throw away.
I have a green valley
of possibility in front of me.
And a mountain of regret
in my rear view mirror!
I’m hoping there is just enough
in the tank to make it to the end of this road. CRASH

Dear Grandpa,
It’s been 11 years snice you’ve gone. I can still remember the night being so peaceful, so still, and so cold. I remember the day we laid you to rest. The snowflakes that fell that day were the biggest ones I’ve ever seen. I wanted to be one of the few who go to carry you to your final resting place, but I watched instead as my brother, cousin, brother in law, and a few others carried you instead.

I’ll never forget when my 18th birthday rolled around and I eagerly went to the gas station and bought a can of your grizzly wintergreen chewing tobacco. I took it to you grave and had lunch with you. The sun was shining and I was happy enough even though you weren’t with me anymore.

You were my best friend. The amount of days I skipped school just to hang out with you nearly cost me my graduation. The people at school frowned upon the week I missed when you passed. Said I shouldn’t have been gone that long and that I needed to be there from then on. What was I supposed to say? Grief has no time limit and I wasn’t capable of dragging myself out of bed to go be around people who never understood me. You always did though.

I wonder what you would think of me now. Would you still be proud of me? Would you still be able to sit in silence with me and just watch the tv? Would you still be able to look me in the eyes and tell me everything was going to be ok? You were my safe place in this world and even though it has been 11 years my heart still hurts. I yearn to hear your laugh, see your smile, and feel the warmth of your hugs.

I love and miss you so much, Grandpa.

Dear Tay,

Two disclaimers about this piece before I shoot my shot: actually, three. This is not a letter to Taylor Swift, not a ploy to be your man, and I am not calling you Tay to embarrass you!

So, who am I talking about? Two people, Taylor Rooks and Joy Taylor, both of whom are Black women in sports.

When thinking of these women, I won’t lie, they are very physically attractive and some may claim that this is why they are on TV.

They recently collaborated, co-hosting their podcast called Two Personal. Rooks and Taylor do a great job at their “daily job”(talking about sports) and giving a voice to others to express themselves.

In this joint venture, the duo are unfiltered, authentically highlighting the ups and downs of being a minority, especially in the sports world where being judged for superficial characteristics is the norm.

In the first few episodes, they have discussed topics that are, well… personal.

The episodes have included subjects such as pregnancy.

The theme of each episode is not why I am attracted to it, it’s that my personal takeaway is:

No matter what sport they are covering, the leading story about Tayx2 is not about the work the women do in the sports arena, to me, they portray that being a proud Black woman is what they want people to talk about when the conversation about them starts.

I’ve stated this before: sports was a way for me to hold my emotions in, and yes, you would be pretty hard-pressed to convince me that the final seconds of a game where the 16 seed has a chance to push off the 1 seed from “the dance floor” (March Madness pun) is not more heart-throbbing than when the final rose is given out in the Bachelor series.

But the two can co-exist.

So, thank you Joy and Taylor for showing that talking about the final few seconds of the game does not have to be substituted for talking about the first few seconds of my life. They can be on the same team “dancing” together!

Much Love & Respect,

Jake April

Photo credit: Two Personal Instagram Page

I’m hot but I like it mild
Sometimes needy, labeled the wild child.
Lucid Dreamer like the Pisces I am.
Born on the only day that’s not always there….got me questioning LIFE from the day it began! Thank you.
If you do the math I equal 55.
But I failed that subject.
Words over numbers that’s where I thrive. Trouble maker Too cool for school
but finished that shit cuz I wasn’t no fool. Babies having babies so quick to be grown. Took on that roll
I still proudly chill on that thrown.
Thank you.
My reasons to grind, a whole new light.
My Pride n joys and Proof
That I can do something right! Thank you. Welcomes more lost identity.
Still Shandi but constantly morphed,
searching for real serenity.
Somedays up somedays down,
sociable emotional, ready to get devotional. Thank you.
Spread love n laughter
maybe a people pleaser.
Make plans to break plans,
but follow thru with promises.
I write to write about all these feelings just to read them at my own leisure.
If you took a test about YOU
would you pass or fail?
Do you know what make ur own boat sail?
I won’t answer my own questions…
What if everything you have been told was wrong with you is actually everything that is right? Ok here comes the rabbit hole it’s time to say good night. Thank you!

I wrote this about my most recent battle of surviving and healing physically/mentally after my car accident. It took me LEFT
“with nothing” to realize I already have everything I need and I can say I am Thankful my God continues to prove his love for me!!

Left. Starving.
Tryin to keep my head up…while being fed up. Hard to stay UP when all you feel is down. Pushed down. All the way down.
To the Mf ground. Stuck on a marry go round. Left. Spinning. Where we stop nobody knows. Can’t afford to take no more blows. Left.
Down where the stream flows.
Saying goodbye to all my belongings.
Saying goodbye to dreams
Suddenly
Saying good riddance to the negativity. Watching my stuff float out of sight.
Still starving but can’t get fed a bite.
Left. Freezing cold with no warmth in sight.
This is where strength kicks in ready to fight. Move how you are forced to move. Wedged. Jammed. Left. Scared. Worried.
Made to believe you have luck.
How, when all I feel is stuck.
Still searching for my belongings
floating in the muck.
Maybe I wasn’t looking for my stuff after all wtf… I was left looking for more outta life.
Left. Just So I can get RIGHT.

Hello Everyone!
I’m new to The Unsealed. The site caught my eye because of the backstory and I believe the contests seem interesting. I’m a writer with a handful of poems published.
This is my first letter so I thought I’d introduce myself briefly. I am a recovering addict with some mental health issues. I also have two daughters and a grandson. I live in the house my grandparents raised me in before they passed away.
When I’m not reading or writing, I enjoy photography, swimming, hiking, listening to music, traveling to places I’ve never been and painting ceramics.
I’m also a Scorpio.

Mikaela Lauren Tick,

March 7th is your birthday. I was planning to post this on the 6th, as it would fit the theme… premature, or just because this is so hard to get through that I wanted to do it early.

Then again, it is the 6th in California, where my sister lives – who is due to give birth on the 9th.

So, who knows, she can be getting contractions as I write this! .

Hello future Weber,

For future comparison, please note: the line below details what time this sentence was written:
Sentence was completed at 9:33 pm 3.6.24 (PST)

I will see you soon!

Love,

Uncle Jakey💜

Anyway, back to the premature thing.

MLT YOU💜 ME because I was born prematurely at 1lbs 13 oz, giving me cerebral palsy – It feels really weird to be talking about myself in YOUR bday card, CONVENIENTLY weird!

Your favorite thing to do was to ASK me how I was doing and there to share all the moments with me🥲

Alright, let us get back to MYSELF🤔 I think that would make everyone happy😂

In all seriousness, you ARE at your HAPPIEST when the attention is on others. I’ll take it and run!

Our relationship iS STILL as close as ever!

I may not be able to physically hug you, but I know YOU ARE STILL HERE because I see the signs:

Whether it’s with family or things that I do, I do NOT doubt that you did not have anything to do with Lexi, finding a Jeffrey, Ryan finding a Pamela (I’m a little upset with that one because there is only one Pamela Tick, but that’s ok, Pamela’s maiden name is Katz (like Nanny Sheila’s)!

Me:
The Unsealed with LAUREN, my psychologist —who has a disability, and lost a cousin, my best friend, Mack, who I met at a special Olympics event!

In these ways, YOU ARE IMPACTING EVERYONE, ESPECIALLY ME, SHOWING ME, that love can be experienced by ANYONE, ANYWHERE, disability or not!

I would say, until we see each other next time, but I see you EVERYDAY!

Until I can give you a PHYSICAL HUG, sending all of them up into HEAVEN! That and a Black & White Cookie for Papa Donald!

I hated my dad’s classes. He would take out his “Black Tapes”, his Black Law books, and his printed-out thick packets of information from whatever minister or professor he liked then and turn on his computer. It was only occasionally, but the topics of our history always left me feeling uneasy. As I’ve grown, I realized it wasn’t his fault the topics were oppressive to deal with, but I am fortunate he tried to prepare me for the outside world I was entering.

He is good at that.

I was homeschooled and in one of our many classes, I remember he made my brother and I draw a circle on the page in front of us and write these words.

“The space inside this circle represents my realm of knowledge. All that I think I know about whatever I think know is depicted right here within this circle! I must keep in mind that there is more to know than what is within the circumference of my awareness.”

I admired his way of storing and sharing information. His eyes lit up when he had the chance to but other times, he just kept his head in a book or focused on the new installment of monitors on his desk; only to interact again when his friends were around. The people who seemed to matter most.

What he does to me, I do to him. Even though in the deepest parts of our hearts all we want to do is hug each other. We choose to dance around it. We hurt each other, but we do it with love. I know it makes no sense, yet it’s true. I say nothing to protect us and he tells me nothing to keep my image of him from being damaged forever.

Everything he taught me I absorbed. I stood on a podium and to 300 people. I told them that quote he told me. I made them make a circle with their hands and recite these words, again.

“The space inside this circle represents my realm of knowledge. All that I think I know about whatever I think know is depicted right here within this circle! I must keep in mind that there is more to know than what is within the circumference of my awareness.”

I saw him watch me and I could feel how proud he was without having to look. There are moments when I love him with my whole heart and there are moments when I can’t because it hurts. But I always listen to him, just like I know he listens to me.

I love you in the way rain always escapes the forecast. It surprises me how much I always forget my umbrella. I love you and it’s hard because it’s hard to love myself sometimes.

We talk and clash because we both want to be right and since he can’t respond I will part with a piece of his song:

A baby boy, amazing grace. The 20th of July, a special day. A father’s smile and mother’s tear. Through that special reunion, I appear. So full of life and so many dreams. Raised in the ghetto the eldest of three.

This sounds like me:

A baby girl, amazing grace. The 25th of July, a special day. A father’s smile and mother’s tear. Through that special reunion, I appear. So full of life and so many dreams. Raised in the ghetto the youngest of three.

And this part sounds like us:

Plans were made to visit Grandma and them. But underneath pops’ wings is where you’ll find me. Right before bed was the best of times. I swear moms can read a book and make it come to life. But maybe life pressure got to Mom and Dad. Made them change directions from the ones they had. Buckets of tears running down my face as I watch in pain my hero’s separating.

But with me and you, there are no separations.

I am a work in progress

Orphan baby that time stole

As I figure out my role

Though sometime just a hot mess

I try to find my true self

Racing time against its toll

Challenging my self control

While maintaining mental health

The haters and the lovers

Inspire my will to thrive

And my desire to stay alive

Lest I dive under the covers

So, in stepping out of bed

I take steps toward my goal

Like a newborn baby foal

To live life outside my head

Have I really been working on myself or did I just change from my work clothes to something more comfortable
Is this depression or is it just the pigment of my skin
Can I defeat you, detach from you or are you so fingerprinted to my thoughts that I’m simply running away from me
Sometimes I wish I could just escape me, myself wears a mask, and I am tired of getting dressed up just to still feel down
I’m black said my mind, I live in the shadows of sadness watching the sunlight from a distance
If only the heat from the suns smile would kiss me, maybe it would melt away my sadness
I’m black said my words, followed by you’re different, they won’t accept you, you don’t fit in
I’m black says the mirror looking at a reflection of depression
I get so lost in my waning emotions my waxing moon can barely breathe
It’s so cold that even the rays of light feel sad
I’m black, I’m depressed, I’m black, I’m oppressed, I’m black I’m obsessed with the idea of my feelings living on equal ground
I’m black, I’m depressed the two interchange while beginning to sound the same so much so I took depressions last name
When I look at me I see one broken piece
I can’t find the rest of the lyrics to my song, maybe it’s because the writer will never finish it
Maybe it’s because I didn’t cry enough to water my heart
I’m black, I’m dirt, but my soil is killing the last remaining rose
I am a rose with bloody red regrets for petals, I put my failures on a pedestal
So, every time I tried to look up it got me nowhere
I’m lost and I keep letting the grey line give me directions, because there’s a thin line between joy and happiness, and in the middle is pity where you can find me
I’m black so they think I stole these 5 minutes of happiness, and so what if I did everyone deserves 15 minutes of fame and mine is coming soon
But right now, I just want to smile and actually feel the laughter hold me instead of the facade that hugs me like a long embrace
This morning I stopped running and looked depression in the face
My mind is not yours it is the Lord’s
p.s. let the battle begin

As a writer, I often find myself discovering scraps of writing I have jotted down somewhere, or suddenly, a line will appear in my head that doesn’t fit anywhere or doesn’t feel good enough. Sometimes, I foolishly let it fly away because it wasn’t what I was looking for at that moment. I have pondered how we do this with so many things. We set expectations and order and refuse anything that breaks the pattern, even if the thing we are shooing away isn’t harmful but is healing. We become so strict within ourselves that we become the cause of our discomfort. We search for relief in one way and refuse to accept that anything other than that specific thing will help. There is a calming effect that comes with the familiar, but only because one thing helps us, it doesn’t mean something else won’t. Here is a little silly analogy. Only because you love fries doesn’t mean you can’t like mash. It doesn’t mean mash isn’t satisfying, even if fries are your favorite. The same goes for everything in life. Are you feeling sad? Then you probably know something that can help, but if you are being entirely honest, can you say you are open-minded and open-hearted to other options? We tend to dismiss things before attempting them and convince ourselves that something else won’t work until it stands no chance. I was against exercising for so long. Told myself that I hated it and did so with such intensity I couldn’t let myself feel how I genuinely felt. There was no benefit because I refused there to be one. I was determined for it to fail, so it failed; however, when I let go, gave it a chance, and approached it with openness, I learned it does a lot for my mental health. This is one example of many. It is strange how this links with my writing and how I have started writing down the notes I would abandon before, and the results have been incredible. Instead of telling myself they are awful and brushing them out the door, I let them stay a while. I give them room in my notepad and let them ruminate.
In summary, I am saying we are terrible at giving things chances, and we should open ourselves to everything. It is okay if you give something a genuine attempt and it doesn’t work out for you, but please try it. Download the running app, try those HIIT workouts, make that recipe you’ve been unsure about, and write the poetry you are sure will suck. In celebration of this, here is an ending of a poem my brain created that doesn’t have a body yet. Hopefully, one day, it will.
“Please call back later
I’m trying to sleep off the silence
And if you don’t understand
what I’m saying
Congratulations
You’re cured.”
(If you like this letter, I write these weekly on my website. I will post more here also, so make sure we’re friends.)

Dear Movie Fanatics,

Where do I start on my mood swing journey?

Well, you all should know a little about my personality. To begin, I am a partial introvert with an appreciation for life. Empathetic, goofy, and humble all rolled into a nerdy late 30-year-old. I go through the swing of life with a healthy mix of career and personal goals. My love life is healthy, and my fiancée is awesome. He is my balance, happiness, and 1/4 of my heart next to my dad, mom, and dog.
Just to give a little background now let’s go on the rollercoaster- fasten your seatbelts, everybody.
Like most people, I go through different moods depending on my situation in life. I have 5 that drive the genre of shows I am going to watch for the day, week, or month.
—————————————————————
MOOD 1 (Psychological Thriller Genre)
Typically, when I start watching films like this it indicates that I have been around complex individuals—usually my friends, fiancée, or coworkers. To add on, I have watched something insightful/educational. My handy dandy TV providers HULU, Netflix, Tubi, etc… are always on the ball with recommendations for what I usually watch but sometimes I like to switch it up on them.
Recently, I came across a movie called “The Loft” which has a pretty badass cast. The plot centers around five married men who use a loft to have affairs however one woman ends up dead and they must figure out who killed her. Sounds predictable to most moviegoers but the writers threw in two great plot twists. Logan’s character, the main one who ended up buying the loft, ends up essentially screwing all his friends over by having affairs with Chris’s wife, sleeping with Ben’s sister (who was a virgin), and Matt’s affair partner. All the friends end up framing him for the murder of the girl, but it ends up being the awkward friend of the group who gave the girls sleeping pills and Logan’s half-brother who kills her.
A lot went into the plot, but I was very impressed with the director’s ability to keep the story on track. I love it when I have to double back on a film or re-watch it to understand the plot.
After awhile, my brain does need a break from all the movie Jedi mind tricks and that’s when I transition to the more non fiction based genres.
——————————————————————————————————–
MOOD 2 (Documentary Genre)
After I have gotten my dose of fiction for a week straight, I start to crave semi-predictable “historically accurate” content. I tend to get into this mood whenever I discover something new about myself or the people around me. Research begins and I look up specific artists of different genres to get their backstory. For example, sometime last year I happened to be listening to “Time Machine”, by Willow Smith, and in the lyrics, she sings, ” Baby, if I had a time machine, I’d go back to 1983. Maybe I would chill with Basquiat, I’d be out there playing make-believe.” The first question that sprung to mind was, “Who tf was Basquiat? Some French guy?”. Without hesitation, I immediately did a Roku TV search and happened to find a documentary on Hulu called, “Boom For Real: The Late Teenage Years of Jean-Michael Basquiat”.
“OMG, this is the SAMO guy!”- I screamed aloud.
Of course, my random outburst scared my dog and fiancée, but it was only because I felt like I had been sleeping under a rock. After watching how prolific this melanated Brooklyn-born artist was during the 80’s, I ended up purchasing a huge Basquiat-inspired “docu-art-book” (roughly 1,000 pages long) and got through 25% of the book as I am writing this article today.
After viewing 1-10 artists’ life stories, I started to wonder if these celebrities infamous or not, were the inspiration for different horror films. I then delve into my Horror Film binge.
———————————————————————————————————
MOOD 3: (Horror Genre)
Recently, I have been curious about the human experience regarding coincidental or inexplicable events happening in the past or present. I researched the story of Ed & Lorraine Warren. While most people thought they were “Kooks”, I found the integration of their career in “The Conjuring Universe” to be quite insightful. Curiosity at this point got the better of me and I began my binge of the whole series. From “Annabelle” to “The Nun”, each movie kept my attention for following the storyline. Jump scares used in moderation make for a great horror film in my opinion.
Afterward, I go to the old-school films that set the bar for the horror franchise today. Films such as “Child’s Play”, “The Exorcist”, “The Shining”, “Alien” etc… I am a firm believer in giving homage to the originals. Eventually, after my subconscious tricks me into believing I am being chased by an evil puppeteer, I begin my transition into a animated viewing experience.
————————————————————————————————————-
MOOD 4: (MANGA/ANIME/CARTOON GENRE)
I usually get into my animation craze when I need a dose of comedic relief from any horror or non-fiction binge I finish. Anime, Manga, and cartoons hold a special place in my heart and brain. Maybe the fact that someone’s inner child brought their imagination to life is what draws me in so heavily. One of my favorite anime series is Cowboy Bebop. Alongside this masterpiece, I also love “Samurai Champloo”, “Trigun”, “Attack on Titan”, and “The Boondocks”, just to name a few.
Afterwards, I go down memory lane for my dose of nostalgia and start watching projects from Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, and Cartoon Network. “Samurai Jack”, “Hey Arnold”, “Code Name Kids Next Door”, “The Proud Family”, etc… bring me down memory lane and my loved ones talk about which episodes resounded with us the most.
Recently, I made two cartoon theories on the TikTok app. Both theories focus on the possibility of cartoon characters being reincarnated on other cartoon shows. For example, I made a theory video about Susie Carmichael, from “The Rugrats” being reincarnated as Ms. Zorski the drama/English and music teacher due to their hobbies or life events in each show. As a result, I have come up with 5 video theories that are in progress as I write this letter. I love the fact these animations can get your imagination running wild. After a while, I need to come back to “reality” and I end my monthly genre binge with a more adrenaline-based viewing.
——————————————————————————————–
Mood 5 : (Action Packed Genre)
Finally, I end my monthly binge with some blood-rushing special effects and ass-kicking films/tv shows. I usually get into this mood after watching manga turned into anime shows where the fight scenes get my blood pumping. My favorite action film is a mix of horror/action, and it is “Blade”. I know that is technically “cheating” but his killing vampires and the fight scenes using Wesley Snipes are downright awesome. I always get more inspired to learn self-defense in my spare time as a result of watching an action-packed movie. I’d also venture to say that the actors/actresses also inspire me to get to my ideal body. Special thanks to Halle Berry in “Catwoman” for her perfect curves in tight leather. Standing ovation for Salma Hayek in “Dusk till Dawn” for her two-piece bikini dancer body. Honorable mention shout out to Angelina Jolie for making it cool for girls to look sexy in hunting gear with gun holsters.
After I tire myself out mentally and physically, I give the action genre a break and restart the binge process all over again.
————————————————————————————–
In conclusion, my taste in movies has changed over the years but my personality has played a role in the films/tv shows I have had the pleasure/displeasure of viewing. I’ve concluded that my rollercoaster always encompasses these 5 main genres. However, they do not always follow the order of the genres listed in this piece. Sometimes, I can have one mood for two to three weeks at a time and I could end up watching one genre for 3 weeks and switch it up at the last minute. (Especially if I am feeling impulsive).
So, I challenge all my TV/FILM fanatics to look into their favorite genres and reflect on their process for picking what they want to watch for the day or month.
Ready, Set, GO!

I pray God send you back to me
I loved you before I knew you
I still love you
Stink-stink
My boo boo
I will always love you
You would have been 7 years old
Some friends tell me Happy mothers day
I smile to cover up the pain that’s inside of me
It’s hard for me to open up to explain to others what happened
I wish I knew what you would have looked like
Still wonder if you were going to be a baby boy “Legend”
Or a “Diamond” princess
I wish I knew your favorite toy
Your favorite cartoon
favorite food
favorite fruit
favorite veggie
favorite ice cream
favorite hobby
favorite color
favorite book
I know uncle Jimmy would have been your favorite uncle
Sherice & Klanice your favorite twin aunties
All I wanted was the best for you
Lead you in the right direction
I wanted you to have a father
That knew the definition of being a father
And act on it
I was so happy when I confirmed I was due 3/30/2017
But I was scared too
So I sat down and thought everything through
I rather have a child by a real man with father experience
Even with no father experience but is ready and willing to sacrifice
And do everything he can to make sure his child is well taken care of
And I was guaranteed to have a real man that had my back one hundred percent
Then I would have never had any doubts
I still look at my ultrasound picture
My body freezes up looking at my seed I was carrying
Small thing you
Sometimes as I sit and write
But yet my kid not hugging or kissing me
Or saying, “mommy I love you”
I feel so empty inside
The sorrow is so heavy
So deep
I pray God
Bring me back my princess or prince
Beautiful
Handsome
Healthy and all.

My little angel 😇 💛

In the realm of whispers, where simple truths twist and turn
Resides the tale of crayons, damaged and yearned.
“They still bring color ” they say, with a glance
Those who have tried know its a flawed dance.

For crayons though vibrant and bold
Struggle, in hands that fail to hold.
The canvas awaits, vast and forgiving
Fragmented pieces make coloring less than living.

Coloring, not painting; the distinction is clear
One wields crayons while the other brushes near.
Yet the challenge endures with these parts
Smooth strokes of joy elude us like lost arts.

Lines appear jagged and hesitant, on our quest
With each tiny fragment causing hues to fade best.
The persists “They still bring color indeed ”
Oh how we long for crayons to succeed.

For isn’t true bliss found in slow glides?
In crayons that smoothly coincide?
Yet from brokenness we learn resilience imbued
Colors emerge despite abuse endured.Well you know when it comes to coloring with crayons it’s not as easy, as using the ones. It’s like a story of never giving up and facing our fears. Actually it could even be seen as a metaphor for more than just coloring.

In both life and coloring those who are broken may still manage to leave their impactful marks.. Lets not pretend that it’s just as simple or fair for everyone. We all have our own challenges and obstacles to overcome, both in our lives and, in our endeavors.