It Was Never What I Wanted To

Growing Up, I Have Discovered Over Time, Is Rather Like Housework: Never Finished.

If You Desire A Man To Tell You Comfortable Lies About Your Prowess, And So Fetter Any Hope Of True Excellence, I'm Sure You May Find One Anywhere. Not All Prisons Are Made Of Iron Bars. Some Are Made Of Feather Beds.

Your Father Calls You To His Court. You Need Not Pack. You Go Garbed In Glorious Raiment. He Waits Eagerly By His Palace Doors To Welcome You, And Has Prepared A Place At The High Table, By His Side, In The Company Of The Great-souled, Honored, And Best-beloved.

Adulthood Isn't An Award They'll Give You For Being A Good Child. You Can Waste Years, Trying To Get Someone To Give That Respect To You, As Though It Were A Sort Of Promotion Or Raise In Pay. If Only You Do Enough, If Only You Are Good Enough. No. You Have To Just Take It. Give It To Yourself, I Suppose. Say, I'm Sorry You Feel Like That And Walk Away. But That's Hard

Aim High. You May Still Miss The Target, But At Least You Won't Shoot Your Foot Off.