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About Kalidasa

  • Rank
    Strong Minded
  • Birthday 06/05/1984

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    Mistress Aeryn
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  • Gender
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    Looking down at my shadow
  • Interests
    Music, digital photography, writing, reading, freedom from religion, web design, women's rights.
  • More About Me
    I am a glasses-wearing, grey-eyed curly-haired brunette of average height with a sarcastic streak a mile long and two miles wide, a mouth that belongs in the sewer and extreme sadistic tendencies, who eschews dresses in favour of jeans, T-shirts, baseball caps and sneakers. I am bisexual and proud of it, I am a perfectionist, I don't suffer fools lightly, and I believe that 95% of the human population is inherently stupid.

Previous Fields

  • Still have any Gods? If so, who or what?
    The Unholy Trinity: Me, Myself and I

Recent Profile Visitors

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  1. 6:20pm on the East Coast of Australia and the world is still here. What was this about the Rapture, then?

  2. College needs to go away and die please.

  3. WHere you been girl? Its been ages since we have seen you round here :))

  4. And once again I'm reminded of why I really do not like Christians... *twitches*

    1. stryper


      don't worry the twitching will pass...however the encountered stupid will not.

    2. Kalidasa


      Unfortunately for me I'm forced to put up with the stupid every day of the bloody week... *sigh*

    3. NaturalMary63
  5. Two weeks today until my second year of college - in a completely new area of study - begins. Bring it on! :D

    1. Margee


      You go girl! good luck!

  6. It's the second resurection of Christ. Before the world ends he wants to take in some fishing. So he gets his friend Moses and they head up to Minnesota to fish. They are about to rent a canoe when Moses says, "Jesus, can't you still walk on water? Why not just walk out there?" So Jesus takes his reel and tackle and steps onto the lake....and falls knee deep in water. Moses says, "Well....maybe you need a head start or something, why not go to the end of the dock and try." So Jesus takes his reel and tackle and steps off the end of the dock and falls up to his waist. Moses says, " Well why not rent the boat, go out to the center of the lake and try there." So they rent the boat and go to the middle of the lake, Jesus is about to step off and try again when Moses says, "Wait. Just to be safe, why not get yourself into the state of mind you were in the first time you did it." So Jesus sets down, meditates for a few minutes, and finally he's all psyched up, and steps out of the canoe...and proceeds to drown. So Moses does the water parting thing, and pulls Jesus up into the boat. Jesus is just beating himself up over this. He just doesn't see what's going wrong here. Moses just stares down at the bottom of the boat. Suddenly, Moses says, "I got it! I know what's wrong! Did you have those holes in your feet last time?" +++ A very religious man lived right next door to an atheist. While the religious one prayed day in, day out, and was constantly on his knees in communion with his Lord, the atheist never even looked twice at a church. However, the atheist's life was good, he had a well-paying job and a beautiful wife, and his children were healthy and good- natured, whereas the pious man's job was strenuous and his wages were low, his wife was getting fatter every day and his kids wouldn't give him the time of the day. So one day, deep in prayer as usual, he raised his eyes towards heaven and asked: "Oh God, I honour you every day, I ask your advice for every problem and confess to you my every sin. Yet my neighbour, who doesn't even believe in you and certainly never prays, seems blessed with every happiness, while I go poor and suffer many an indignity. Why is this?" And a great voice was heard from above: "BECAUSE HE DOESN'T BOTHER ME ALL THE TIME!"
  7. I never 'announced' it, per se. I told a couple of my friends that I'd given religion the boot - which I regret doing, because it wasn't long before everyone at school knew. I didn't tell my parents, however - my mother worked it out when I was 18, but my father still won't accept it. He's completely deluded. *shakes head in dismay*
  8. A vampire bat came flapping in from the night covered in fresh blood and parked himself on the roof of the cave to get some sleep. Pretty soon all the other bats smelt the blood and began hassling him about where he got it. He told them to piss off and let him get some sleep, but they persisted until he finally gave in. "Okay, follow me," he said and flew out of the cave with hundreds of bats behind him. Down through a valley they went, across a river and into a forest full of trees. Finally he slowed down and all the other bats excitedly milled around him. "Now, do you see that tree over there?" he asked. "Yes, yes, yes!" the bats all screamed in a frenzy. "Good," said the first bat, "because I fucking didn't!"
  9. How do you make a hippie wash? Put his welfare check under a bar of soap.
  10. DAMN YOU ASIMOV! I was all ready to post my little counter-attack, and you had to go and do that. *facepalm* But here it is anyway, if anyone's interested to see what I can come up with at almost three in the morning. And that, children, is called sexism. Rape is defined as 'the crime of forcing somebody to have sex'. Mary was given no say in the matter - therefore it is rape. It was done wholly without her consent. I have read the Bible, believe it or not, so don't you dare go trying to accuse me otherwise. No sane woman would consider it an honour to carry her rapist's child. Not even a Christian. Prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Bible is the official word of God, and we might take you seriously. Tangible proof, if you please.
  11. I originally posted my testimony in November 2003 - this is a newer version. * * * I was 15 and a half when I became an atheist. I'd been raised Anglican (Church of England) all my life - I was christened, went to scripture classes all the way through primary school, attended church and Sunday school classes for about three months during 1994 (my family wasn't and still isn't what you would call practicing Christians), and I even endured seven long, hellish years at the local Christian school. I'd been going to the local public school before that. I wasn't very well liked at my 'old' school. I tried to be nice to everyone, and it wasn't well received by my fellow students (it ended up in me being labelled by the other students as a retard, which I'm not by any means). So my parents yanked me out of there in December 1995 and shoved me in the local Christian school a month later. It was great for about the first two years - I had friends for the first time in my life, I was doing well, and I liked it there. But in 1998, as I entered Year 8, it all changed. That year, I started pleading with my parents to let me go back to public school. I can't remember exactly why I wanted to go back. My parents refused, so I paid them back in the best way I could think of. I hated it there, so I gave up on everything, but mostly my schoolwork. Did that piss my parents off? You'd better believe it. They subjected me to this tirade about how they were spending thousands of dollars a year to give me 'the best education possible' and I was just throwing it back in their faces. Admittedly, I was. But I didn't give a rat's ass about that. Did my indifference make them see 'the error of their ways'? Hell no. I began feeling 'out of the loop' in Year 9. My grades began picking up again that year (I'd discovered that I was good at mathematics), and I had some great friendships, but...something was missing. I was the only kid in my class who didn't regularly attend church - in fact, the only time I was ever seen at or set foot in church was at the compulsory start-of-year church service that my school held every year. And I'd started to feel strangely apprehensive when it came to lessons that involved Bible readings (more often than not, English). I also became depressed and suicidal, and didn't see any point in living. It was truly the lowest point of my fifteen years of life. Six months later, I discovered atheism. I had a habit of spending my lunchtimes at school in the school library, and I'd taken to reading a couple of the religious books that were archived there. I didn't really believe that there was a higher power, and I hadn't believed for a few months. I found an entry on atheism, and that was when it clicked. I'd been living a lie, and lying to myself, my entire life. I wasn't a Christian. I was an atheist. Some might say that this decision was brave. Others might say it was the height of stupidity. But it was my decision, and it felt right. Almost five and a half years later, it still feels right. It was the best decision I ever made. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best time to make it. I had absolutely no support network during my deconversion. Somehow, someone found out what I was and spread it around campus, and I went from being well-liked by all of the teachers and students to being considered no better than pond scum. I was called 'heretic' and 'freak', had children as young as ten (my school was for kids in kindergarten right up until Year 12) following me around campus singing inane little songs, and whenever I was in the library I had kids dropping heavy Bibles on top of whatever I was doing at the time, without any regard for whether or not there was something breakable on the table at the time. I even had said Bibles thrown at me. I wear glasses, so those students definitely had no regard whatsoever for my personal safety. It continued like that for the next three years. I finally managed to escape that school in November 2002, and, save for the few students that I keep in contact with, I no longer have any associations with it. My only reminders of those seven years of hell are school photographs, school reports, my Higher School Certificate results, and the rugby jersey that my parents coerced me to buy during my final year there. I don't even remember the names of half the kids I went through high school with, despite the fact that I was in the same class with all of them from Year 6 up until Year 12. I've thrown out the only Bible that I ever owned. My experience at a Christian school changed me. I am bitter to my core for one, and I carry countless scars that haven't yet healed. And I'm not sure that they ever will.
  12. This is a short story I wrote last month sometime - it's rare that I'm able to sit down and write one, as I need to have enough inspiration and motivation to churn them out. Check it out - leave a little love if you like it. * * * It's Hard Letting You Go The shrill tones of Good Charlotte’s Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous started blasting in my ear, startling me awake. My eyes popped open to see my chemistry textbook lying open on my desk next to my computer’s keyboard; when I had raised my head up and blinked the sleep from my eyes, I was met with a screen full of gibberish – I’d apparently fallen asleep on my keyboard. I scrolled up to the very top of the document in question, only to be met with the title of the essay that I had been working on the night before. An essay that was due in by five o’clock today. “Shit!” I hissed. “Oh this is just great…” I slammed my right index finger down on the backspace key and deleted approximately ten pages of nonsense. By this time my phone had stopped ringing, but I reasoned that if it was important, whoever was calling me would call back. They usually did. Sure enough, not a minute later, my phone rang again. I snatched it up and answered on the second ring. “Hello?” “Quinn? This…this is Emma Bennett. Taylor’s mother.” “Oh, hey Mrs. Bennett,” I said, glancing at the taskbar of my computer’s desktop; it read 9:38 am. “What’s up?” “Nothing good, I’m afraid.” She sighed quietly. “Quinn…Taylor passed away early on Monday morning.” At that moment, I felt as if the world had stopped. “What?” I whispered in complete disbelief. “I’m so sorry, Quinn; I know how close the two of you were.” “Oh man…” I bit my bottom lip hard to hold back the tears that were threatening to escape. “Is…is there anything I or my parents can do?” “Just be there for Ebony and Aidan; they’re taking it the hardest of all of us.” “I will,” I promised. Of course I would be. The Bennett triplets were utterly inseparable, or at least they had been. If one was nearby, you could be sure that the other two were in relatively close proximity. This had to be hurting the two of them so badly, not to mention the rest of the Bennett family… “If there’s anything else we can do, let us know.” “Thank you, Quinn.” There was a short silence. “The funeral is at ten-thirty on Sunday morning, at St. Andrew’s; I know that Ebony especially would appreciate having you there.” “I’ll be there,” I assured her. “Thanks for letting me know.” After I had hung up, I immediately dialled the number of my chemistry professor and asked for a week’s extension on the essay, citing a ‘family emergency’ as my reason for not being able to hand it in on time. When that matter was settled, I got up and crossed my room to my bed, lay down and curled up in my blankets, finally allowing my tears to fall and a whirlwind of memories to surround me. I had only known Taylor for eight and a half short months, though we had gone to the same high school – he, his sister Ebony and his brother Aidan had been in the year below mine – but I felt as if I’d known him my whole life. And as a result, I had gotten to know Ebony and Aidan quite well. I knew Ebony better than I did Aidan, however. And now…he was gone, and he was never coming back. Just another memory, another statistic in the seemingly never-ending battle against cancer. I still remembered the day we had met, the two of us – it was kind of hard to forget, really. I walked down the seemingly endless corridor, past closed and partially-opened doors, before coming to one door that was wide open. I stopped and looked inside, then rapped on the doorframe, and the room’s sole occupant – a teenage boy – looked up from poking at his dinner. “Hey there,” I said. “Hi,” he said uncertainly. “Mind if I come in? You look like you could use a bit of company; I know how lonely it can be when you’re on your own in a place like this.” He shrugged. “Sure.” I walked into the room and pulled a chair up to his bedside. “My name’s Quinn, by the way,” I said. “And yours would be…” “Jonathon,” he replied. “But everyone calls me Taylor; it’s my middle name.” He shrugged. “I don’t like it much myself.” He shifted in bed, wincing a little. “Why not? I think it’s a nice name. It’s unusual, granted-” “There’s your answer right there. A weird name for a weird kid.” “I didn’t say it was weird, I said it was unusual.” “Same difference.” He sighed a little. “Sorry. I’m still in shock, that’s all.” I nodded, understanding completely. “So what’re you in here for?” I asked. “Leukaemia,” he replied, looking at his hands. “I’ve got about six months left, a year if I’m lucky.” “Oh wow,” I said softly. “That’s a real kick in the teeth, that is.” “I think that’s a serious understatement.” He poked at the piece of chicken that sat on his plate, before sighing quietly and pushing the table away. “I’d forgotten how much I hate hospital food.” “Tell me about it. Tastes like shit, doesn’t it?” He looked at me without blinking for some time, before letting out a small laugh. “I’d have to agree with you there.” “Well, how much longer are you in here for?” He shrugged. “Dunno really; couple more days, maybe a couple of weeks.” “I usually go down to the canteen to eat; I can’t stand the crap they try to force on us. Maybe you could join me, if you wanted to that is. The food’s much better for one.” He shook his head. “Can’t.” He nodded toward a pair of crutches that rested against the wall. “If I try and walk without those, I’ll make it probably halfway across the room before I fall over. And I don’t trust myself with them anyway, at least not until I’m back home.” “Well…okay. But if you ever want to…” He nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks.” “Great.” I stood up and straightened my dressing gown. “Well, I’m going to head back to my room; if you want to talk, I’m a few rooms down the corridor. I don’t really give the best advice in the world, but I’m a pretty good listener. Or so I’ve been told, anyway.” He nodded again. “I will.” I offered him a small smile. “It was nice meeting you, Taylor,” I said before leaving the room. The next memory to surface was my memory of the day I found out that he had landed himself back in hospital, one week before Christmas. “Ebony?” I asked upon seeing Taylor’s triplet sister sitting in the otherwise deserted hospital waiting area. I could see Aidan standing over near the wall; he was talking on the payphone situated there and twisting his dreadlocks between his fingers. She looked up at me and let out a small sob. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. “What’s going on? Why’re you and Aidan here?” “Tay’s really sick,” she answered quietly. She pointed toward a set of double doors, her hand shaking a little. “He…he’s in there. So’re Mum and Dad.” “So why are you sitting out here, then?” “They wouldn’t let Aidan and I in. It’s been hours, and they won’t tell us what the hell is going on…” Aidan came over and sat down beside Ebony; he sighed and draped an arm around his sister’s shoulders. She in turn lowered her head onto his nearest shoulder. “What did they say?” she asked quietly. “Aunt Delia and Uncle Will, I mean.” “They said to call them when we know what’s going on.” Ebony nodded. “Okay.” She sucked in a breath through her nose. “God, I hope they tell us something soon…” Almost as soon she spoke, the doors opened, and out walked their parents. And I could tell just by the look on Aidan and Ebony’s mother’s face that whatever news they had, it wasn’t good. Ebony sat up almost immediately, and would have scrambled to her feet if not for Aidan’s arm around her shoulders. “What happened?” she asked. “Is he okay?” “He’s throwing up…” their father said, trailing off. He didn’t look at Ebony or Aidan once as he said this. “You’ve seen him throw up before. They never kicked you out,” Aidan said. Their mother just shook her head. “He’s throwing up blood…” she said quietly. I heard Aidan and Ebony let out identical gasps at this turn of events. “Blood?” Ebony echoed. “Why?” “We don’t know,” their father answered. “But it’s not good…” It was almost two-and-a-half hours before the four of them left the waiting area, walking through the doors to the room beyond. I knew that I should have gone back to my room, having intruded more than I had intended to, but my innate curiosity won out, something that was going to get me in a lot of trouble one of these days. I wanted to find out what was going on. Taylor may not have been my brother, but he was my friend. And friends care about one another. About fifteen minutes later, I heard someone yelling. “You’re not dying!” It was Ebony. “You’re not!” And barely a minute later, she came flying into the waiting area, heading directly for the corridor that led to the rear courtyard. Aidan wasn’t far behind her. “Ebony!” he yelled. “Aidan, what’s going on?” I called. He stopped and just looked at me for a little while. “He’s dying,” he answered, before taking off after his sister. But the memory I would have preferred to forget was my memory of the last time I ever saw Taylor alive, the afternoon before he had died. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the corridor. It was quiet, and I could hear the distant squeaking of shoes against the unmarked linoleum floor. I liked it up here – it was peaceful. And I could have stood there in the corridor forever, but I was there for a specific reason. I entered the palliative care ward and started walking down the central corridor, keeping an eye out for room number 3. I couldn’t help but think how utterly wrong it was for someone so young to be in a place like this, dying from a illness that there was no cure for. There was no longer any reprieve from death, for him at least – it was slowly but surely advancing, leaching all semblance of life from him. And it really was quite frightening to witness. Ebony looked up as I rapped quietly on the doorframe; she managed the smallest of smiles and beckoned me into the room. I walked in, pulled over an extra chair and sat myself down. “How’re you holding up?” I asked quietly. She shrugged. “As well as anyone can expect, I suppose, for someone who’s losing their best friend.” She gently ran the pad of her right thumb down the back of Taylor’s hand; he stirred a little in his sleep, flexing his fingers slightly. “I still don’t want to believe that he’s dying, but it’s a bit hard not to when the proof’s right in front of me.” “Could I talk to him?” I asked. “Just so he knows I’m here? I mean, you don’t have to wake him up or anything…” “He won’t hear you if I don’t wake him,” Ebony said, before reaching out a hand; she gently shook her brother by the shoulder. “Tay, wake up,” she said to him. It took him a little while, but he finally opened his eyes, blinking tiredly. He looked absolutely exhausted. “There’s someone here to see you,” Ebony continued. I gave him a little wave. “Hey,” I said, smiling; in return, he managed a small smile that disappeared almost immediately. “Hey Quinn,” he whispered weakly. “You hang in there, all right?” I said, my voice trembling just a little. “I’m hangin’,” he replied; he let out a weak laugh and closed his eyes again. Ebony sighed, looked up at me and nodded toward the open door that led out into the corridor. I followed her out of the room, and she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “This is so hard, Quinn,” she whispered. “That room…my brother is going to spend the rest of his life in there. He’s never coming home. And it hurts so much…” I said nothing in response. Instead, I looked back into the room we’d just exited. And though I had never believed in a higher power, I silently prayed. The following Sunday, I found myself sitting near the back of St. Andrew’s Anglican Church, flanked by my mother and father. The sound of rain drumming on the church’s roof was almost deafening, making it difficult to hear anything else. Even though a microphone and speakers had been rigged up, it was still almost impossible to hear what was to be said. Everyone who went up to speak ended up having to shout just to be heard. But almost miraculously, the rain came close to stopping just as Ebony stepped forward. She looked down at the lectern for what felt like ages, seemingly in an attempt to compose herself. Finally, she looked up and out toward us, and she began to speak. “I won’t lie; I didn’t want to come today. For me, churches have only three purposes. You get married in them, you’re christened in them, and you attend funerals in them. Sadly, the reason we’re all here today is for the third purpose. “Sometimes you think your world will stay the way it is, always and forever. You think your family will always be there, intact, with all its members alive and well, and that nothing will happen to cause a sudden upheaval in your ‘perfect’ little world. But sometimes it just doesn’t happen that way. “The past six days have been the roughest that we Bennetts have ever had to endure. We are all slowly having to adjust to life without Taylor. I won’t lie; it is hard. For nine months, we watched Taylor slip slowly but surely away from us, knowing that it would eventually happen, but not knowing when exactly he would be taken from us. On the Friday morning just gone, Aidan and I turned twenty without him. You never expect to have to deal with that. “When I’ve actually been able to get a decent night’s sleep, I’ve dreamed that Taylor is still alive, and when I wake up I think that he’s downstairs in our house talking to Mum about something that, while seeming almost insignificant to most people, to him would have been one of the most important things in the world. I’ve woken up and raced downstairs…and he hasn’t been there. And the reality of what we’re going through would sink in all over again. “I miss the way he would inch close to me while we were watching a movie in the living room together, and he’d whisper into my ear something that would make me burst into a fit of the giggles and spit orange juice, chocolate milk or vodka all over my jeans and the carpet. And he’d sit there laughing his head off. I loved hearing him laugh – his laugh was so unique. He’d laugh at the smallest things – that was what I loved so much about him. He could find the good in just about any situation; if anyone was stressed out he’d try to find something to make a joke about. It was one of his most endearing qualities. “Sometimes he’d knock on my bedroom door in the middle of the night while I was in the middle of chatting online or getting in my nightly fix of The Late Show with David Letterman, or my weekly fix of Video Hits Uncut, and if I was chatting I’d tell whoever I was talking to that my brother wanted to talk to me, and that I would be back as soon as I could. Sometimes he just wanted to tell me goodnight and that he loved me, giving me a hug before going back to bed. Sometimes we’d stay awake until sunrise, even if I had to work the next day, talking about anything and everything while endlessly dipping into my junk food stash. Sometimes he’d sneak downstairs and nick the jar of crunchy peanut butter out of the kitchen pantry, or a tub of chocolate Betty Crocker frosting out of the fridge, and come back up to my room carrying it and two teaspoons. And we’d sit there and watch TV while spooning peanut butter or frosting into our mouths. In winter we’d curl up under my thick feather quilt and just lie there in each other’s arms, listening to each other breathe or to each other’s heartbeats, falling asleep with the TV and ceiling light still on. We were best friends in every way – we knew one another inside out, knew how to push the other’s buttons, knew what made the other ‘tick’ so to speak. The three of us were the best of friends, and Aidan and Taylor both often got teased for having a girl for a best friend. But Taylor and I…we had something special. I was the only one in our family to earn a special nickname, even though it had stemmed from his distinct inability to say my name when we were much younger. Nobody but him dared to even say it around me.” She closed her eyes for a short while and let out a quiet, shaky breath, before opening her mouth to speak again. Not one sound left her mouth. She stood there for about thirty seconds or so before shaking her head. “I…I’m sorry…I can’t do this…” She stepped away and quickly walked back to her seat. “That poor girl,” Mum said, sounding sympathetic. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s going through…” As the church emptied about twenty or so minutes later, I waited near the doors for Ebony to come outside. She came outside with her mother, one of the last people to leave, clutching her mother’s hand as if she were a little girl once more; tears streamed down her face in rivers, dripping off of her chin and soaking into her collar of her pale blue blouse, mingling with the still-falling rain. I reached out and touched her shoulder, and she looked over at me. “Hey,” I said softly. She nodded. “I’m so sorry, Ebony,” I continued. Another nod. “Thanks,” she said quietly. She sighed shakily. “I can’t believe how hard this is already; it hasn’t even been one week yet.” I didn’t say anything, because frankly I had nothing to say. I had never had to deal directly with something like this, and I therefore couldn’t even begin to imagine the hell that Ebony, Aidan and their family was going through right now. I was merely a friend, and could do nothing more than offer my support. “Look, Ebony…” I reached around to the back of my neck and toyed with the knot in my bandanna. “If…you know, you need someone to talk to, or you want to get out of the house for a little while, give me a ring, okay? I don’t really give the best advice in the world, but I’m willing to listen.” Ebony nodded a third time. “Thank you.” Later that week, I entered the cemetery next to St. Andrew’s, sensing a chill in the air almost as soon as I had climbed over the iron gates. And I knew instinctively that it had nothing to do with the outside temperature. After taking a few seconds to orient myself, I set off through the cemetery, past what seemed like interminable rows of gravestones, new and old grouped together. Tucked away in a far corner of the cemetery was the newest gravestone of the group it was placed in – polished black granite, with the words engraved in gold. I just stared at it for what seemed an eternity, registering what was engraved there, before kneeling on the damp ground and taking a closer look. Jonathon Taylor Bennett March 14 1983 – March 10 2003 Beloved brother, son and friend Rest in peace, sweet angel I may be looking at you from afar But I’m always by your side Seeing the inscription finally cemented the reality of what had happened all of ten days ago, and I choked back a sob. It was all too real now. I’d been hoping every night for a week that I was dreaming, and that when I woke up the world would have returned to what I considered normal. But there would be no waking up from this. This was a nightmare brought to life, and the people who had known and loved Taylor were living it, myself included. I couldn’t stay there any longer. I got up and walked away, back to the gates and to the world outside. I’d never truly considered how much losing someone that you cared about could hurt. And now that I knew what it felt like, I just wanted it to go away. I wanted to forget. But forgetting was not going to happen any time soon. And I knew that learning to let go was going to be the hardest lesson of my life.
  13. Kalidasa

    A Photographic Memory

    Random photos of my life as an atheist twenty-something
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