My Yellow Room - Sound of Revival - Autobiography of Egypt English

Stepping on toes


Even a basic two-step takes practice.

Gifted—everyone has a gift say the good books. Each person has something inside of Him or Her which specifically sets Him or Her apart from all others and amongst the ranks of others who share similar gifts, right? Right. So what makes you special…if you are not the only one with your given gift…what makes your gift worth having?

YOU.

You are what makes your gift special. I am the only person walking this good green-blue earth harboring my specific set of morals, traits, values, and experiences. You are the only persona who can express your gift with and from the perspective of your past, present and future living.

YOU ARE THE GIFT.

Fathom this…you, a one of a kind, living breathing walking talking gift to be continually perfected in all areas and aspects of life and existence then shared with humanity well-seasoned and tastefully raw af. Eh, picture that Love.

Peace and always Love!

—♥Egypt

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Wicked Ways - Egypt English - Love & Life Coach

This sh¡t ain’t kashér and you know it…

Vows are not made to be broken…

but—we are humans, fickle creatures…we break them. Some we break unintentionally, some we break to save, as if it needs saving, grace…and some we break simply to keep from having to reveal our demons to none other than ourselves. I broke a vow I made to you, because of the latter—I simply could not be transparent with you, so I hid from you…but only the part of you that reflected me…I hid from your eyes, and yet your hearts still beat in my chest.

Even in hiding, I could not escape the sound. I could not stop my feet from dancing to those beats you conjured—and though, my mind still raced as brilliantly as a million thoroughbred stallions, my spirit stalled out a time or two, and my body backfired…my bones cracked and ground bone on bone. I chipped a tooth. I stained a few. Part of me became so seemingly complete with the thoughts breathing as good mother Dickinson had, and part of me grew sick of dancing in my own eerie shadows, dropping baskets of treats from gloomy windows. Slowly,

hesitantly,

I set aside my peace pipe because I am learning time slows down much faster when it speeds up—like interdimensional travel, shifting, bending, transmuting from one black space to the next without the blinking of an eye. I am home again. Please allow me to rest my head upon your hearts once more.

Signed,

A Letter to Those Who Traveled this Wicked Path with I

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