Into Marvelous Light I'm Running.

What is it about a stereotypical picture that is so wonderful? Why are we drawn to this imaginary image that does not exist? When I see someone with messy hair why do I love the courage they have to live their style, yet my own tousled look screams homeless? I seem to have this unattainable image of what "me" should look like. No matter what I do that look will never be caught. How did media find this inexhaustible ideal that leaves so many women feeling empty and in need of stuff. Stuff. This is what is supposed to make us who we are? Naturally, it is my shoes that scream COURAGEOUS. They can mask my face which is yelling FEARFUL. No! If any courage shines from me it must be from my soul. Life is not made in a factory by machines. Life comes from the inner makings of a person. When I walk into a room, people should know who I am not by the makeup I wear, not by the label I bear, not even by the solid waltz of my legs, but by the shine glowing from inside of me.