WOULDN'T LIFE BE PERFECT IF SWEATPANTS WERE SEXY, MONDAYS WERE FUN, JUNK FOOD DIDN'T MAKE YOU FAT, GIRLS DIDN'T CAUSE SO MUCH DRAMA, GUYS WEREN'T SO CONFUSING, AND GOODBYES ONLY MEANT UNTIL TOMORROW

The universe is constantly stirring the pot and breaking the silence with sudden bursts of dysfunctional turmoil. Unsettling discord breaks into my me clouding my mind with corruption. 

I truly crave to be a free being, and clutch onto the comforts of what makes me happy. Ego is a hard thing to let go of, especially when life is absolutely entangled in the conformity of petty emotions. My life is one sloppy soap opera, dramatically soaked, making me feel like I’m 23 going on 50. Everything causes some sort of whip-lash reaction, sending me into blissful mayhem or destructive chaos, either way; I always seem to lose control of my sanity. And I wonder if I was ever sane to start…

I’m a weird one, I guess, and that suits me just fine. I suppose I desire what most people desire, that true state of bliss where pain or heartbreak isn't capable of creeping onto the scene to throw sand in your eyes just because things have been running smooth for a while. 

It seems sort of cliché though, doesn’t it? EVERYONE wants to be happy. I also suppose it’s that state of unrealistic happiness that has me doubting if true contentment is even achievable.

I want to believe that things will get better and I want to believe that I can bring that euphoria upon myself.

I guess if I keep pushing myself through the rain my skies will clear; it can’t stay cloudy forever, can it? Let’s hope not, because I left my umbrella in South Dakota. lol. 

As for my trust & faith, well, it has been slightly restored... in those that I have around me.... Jagged words and tough love really is what the world needs at times, or maybe just me, but whatever the case, it’s paying off. 

Reality is my biggest struggle, hearing the truth only sparks my denial and then my stubborn self emerges with no good intentions to be found. What burdens me the most is that I react and am sent into autopilot. I don’t ever see the error of my impulsive ways. I am reckless, but mostly wild, and it’s not entirely my fault. It’s an everyday battle that I’ve had to accept and I truly believe that was the best step I could have taken on the path for healing. 

I intend on remaining optimistic, although I lean more on staying real, so sometimes my optimism will be shot down by good sense. And on a side note, logic can really be a pain sometimes. 

Every once in a while I envy those brainless zombies getting worked by the man in society. Maybe if I was clueless I’d be happier, but I’d also be clueless and I guess that is never good thing. 

I just want to reach a level of comfort so that I know what it’s like to not always be caught up in confusion. 

God is my mainComfort, keeping me strong through anything that comes my way, of course with plenty of weak points. My time is coming, I can feel it shaking my bones, and I’m sitting with open arms soaking up any reinforcement that I can. I’m working towards paradise/streets of gold where true contentment is possible and I’ll put in any labor for the pay off in the end.

To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make 
your soul glow. So do it. It's beautiful.