Be The Best of Whatever You Are


If you can’t be a pine on the top of the hill,
Be a scrub in the valley — but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can’t be a tree.


If you can’t be a bush, be a bit of the grass.
And some highway happier make;
If you can’t be a muskie then just be a bass —
But the liveliest bass in the lake!


We can’t all be captains, we’ve got to be crew.
There’s something for all of us here,
There’s big work to do, and there’s lesser to do,
And the task you must do is the near.


If you can’t be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can’t be the sun be a star;
It isn’t by size that you win or you fail —
Be the best of whatever you are!

Douglas Malloch


What You Have Become

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At our first meet, we toy with this idea that you are a mistake. Or rather, that is what you will turn into in the future. It is funny, now. I have no care in the world. I want to be reckless. I want to, live a little. I convince myself that life is all about making mistakes. People who do not make mistakes seldom learn anything. And so I think, why stop here? Let’s take it farther because we are YOUNG! We have our whole lives ahead of us.

Carefree woman
Carefree woman

You will keep saying “I’m ready for this. I think I am definitely ready for another one.” I won’t know that this other one actually meant a simultaneous other one, not preceding. You will echo this just enough times until you plant it in my head, it will flourish! Everything will happen your way, because I will finally believe you. In you. I will trust you so much that I’ll even take this and make it mine too, and I’ll ask whether you actually want to try this with me, forgetting that it was you who brought this up in the first place. That’s just about how deep I’ll have fallen for your lies. It will thrill you so much that you will say it feels surreal.


You lied, and even though I could look I decided not to see. I just shut my eyes. As much as I hated your lies I was busy feeling other things. Things that clouded my judgement, and logic. How I hate to be illogical.

So I decide to never mention what I feel. What I really feel. Where is the sense in that? I still feel it, deeper, with every lie. The more I fight it, the more it lingers on, because what you resist persists. And I hate myself for this persistence. Because of who you are now. Who you will ever be. Not forgotten. A bad memory. Congratulations;

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