Rosie Today

I was kidding about what I said earlier.

A writer who can’t write. a painter who can’t paint. a makeup artist who doesn’t know exactly how to put eye shadow on the cut crease, or make two wings look equal.

Have you ever paid for a service and it was trash? Does that make you doubt their profession? Their right to be in the space? Not for me. If anything, I get mad at myself for other people’s mistakes. Other people’s lack of perfection is my bad, or it used to be, until I started to loosen the reins on my perfectionism and let the world explode like dynamite.

I attack these pages like stairs. I crush stairs like bones. dry brownie brittle toffee coffee maker.

forgiveness, moving on, therapy speak . .