Little Mary's Little Blog

Little Pebbles

no one has the right to be mean to you. no one. sure, people get mad sometimes and they scream. and they say things without thinking. things that hurt us. sometimes a little. sometimes a lot. we are all little humans. sometimes we crack a little. with stress. with worries. with fear.

so we forgive. because we love them. because we want them in our lives. because we understand they just exploded a little. that's okay. but if someone explodes a little too often... you should still love them. and you should still forgive them when they say "i'm sorry". but little apologies are like little jewels. their value increases the fewer of them there are. and when there are too many of them. they become like little pebbles. the little streets of my little town are full of them.

it's okay to walk away from people who give us little pebbles. it's okay to want what's best for you and go and get it. it's okay to know that you deserve better. it's okay to know that you can have better. it's okay to love yourself a whole lot. you shouldn't feel guilty about it.

Little Little, the Mad and the Twiddle

Okay. So I am the mad. The little mad. Because I don't like to twiddle. My little thumbs. (And because I write things like this little blog.) But anyway. I am so afraid to miss any little opportunity that I say yes to every little thing and every little one. Because I don't want to be left behind. I don't want someone else to do it and make a fortune of it before me. Yes. I may not look it but I am a fiercely competitive little person. Mostly because I often forget that there is more than enough out there for everyone. Of everything. Except maybe time... No. There is even plenty of time. Time and Space. No straight lines. La la la. I am a little exhausted. What will we do when we finally stop resisting the fact that the Universe is not at all what we have always believed it to be? I am terrified to step onto this invisible bridge. Was my grandmother really a vampire? Is Baked Bean my doppelganger? Who is Beloved Leader, really? Is everything around me reflections of my tiny little self?

I am going to bed now...

Heavy Little Post Number Three

These first two posts are a little "heavy", aren't they? I am not usually like this. But I've never had a BLOG before! I'm not sure what to write. I have a lot of little thoughts in my little head but I promise you they are not all that intense. I have some light and airy ones, too. I guess I have been hiding in my little hole for way too long. Having no one but Maurice, my fish, and my roses to talk to. (It is okay after all to end I sentence with a preposition). Anyway, Maurice and the roses don't talk back. Even though they are also cartoon characters. Though neither do you for that matter. Are you even there? Is anyone? Oh no. Here I go again...

The little thoughts in my head are not, unfortunately, proof enough of my existence. Not to me, anyway. Even when I set them free in the anything-but-little ether of cyber space. Not even when you see them. Not until you respond to them. You respond therefore I exist. This must be a phase. Some sort of pre-tween existencialist phase. I guess even cartoon characters have those. I'll be nine in August but I am a little premature...

I must admit I miss the crazy Bean. He made me angry and extremely explosive but he provided definete proof for my existence. In my craziest lonely hours I almost believe he was just a product of my little, but fertile, imagination. Because memories are also not enough proof. Memories of people and their actions toward us. Memories are so unreliable. Words or actions. Loving or hateful. Air. Maybe that's why women want babies. Physical undeniable proof. Of love. Of contact. Of existence. I don't want a baby. I'm too little. And they are too loud and need too much attention. I'll settle for a response. One little letter. Is anyone out there?