WordsAlive

Sadly, we are all selfish. As much as we all encourage growth and whatnot, we still find it hard to accept that others have grown. We congratulate ourselves, we praise ourselves, we feel good about ourselves when we compare our intellect of years ago to the present time (at this point, it is no crime to be narcissistic). But we find it hard to accept that someone else has grown, not just any growth, but one that supersedes how we ever imagined.  For instance, a supposed mentor will preach growth constantly to a mentee, but will, in turn, find it hard to accept that growth when it comes.  So many times, we mistake naivety for humility and growth for pride. We like people to live by our rules. Even parents want that same 2-year-old baby who answered to everything they stipulated to still be the 20-year-old adult. Somehow, they still want you to follow their precepts, beliefs and all without understanding that you have grown to have a life of your own even though they still preach “growth

Bobo loved bress. Everything that tottered on the chest gave him joy. Quick fingered he was for he pressed in public, at home, at work, in church. Bobo simply lived to press, and press he did. Flat, round, fallen, upcoming, black, brown, bleached; Bobo pressed all. All bress soft and press-able the good Lord made them all! Bobo also had keen sight—the superman kind of vision. He could spot bress from miles away. Yes, Bobo was good like that. And though his friends warned that unallowed bress pressing and sighting would burst his bubble, sweet Bobo would sneer and say he expected a good many busts. He sure punned on the bust, lord knows! Blessing was the baddest, bustiest bitch around. She had 'em gaddem bress that nodded at all bress lookers and made fallen soldiers rise in defiant attention. Oh, Blessing had it all! And so she caged 'em bress in a bra like two peas in a pod. Blessing liked the attention her bress brought, and the daredevils who were game enough to want to feel