On Being Mean

I had a bad day yesterday.  Nothing was wrong, except I hated everything and took it out on someone I care very much about and traffic and to be honest, was legitimately lucky that I didn't get into a car accident. (Trust me, there was plenty of time for it to happen...)

I know that everyone has bad days now and then, for good reason or for none at all, but I am still sorry I haven't figured out how to manage all those things that inevitably start to snowball and end up exploding in an awkwardly guttural yell that leaves the back of my throat itchy and raw for days.

And I am still learning that people are good and true and reliable and all of the things that you don't realize you need until they're sitting in front of you being needed.

It's still hard for me to believe I'm deserving of all the "second chances" that inevitably make an appearance in this life, but maybe now I can slowly realize that I am.

who, with quiet confidence,

I am a great cynic, & a great hoper.
I live slightly unrealistically.
I do not mind.

refill with life.

I can`t help but think that my Omi, on returning home, is weeping because Opi is gone. I can`t help but to think that.

&also, how nice it is to not "want" for any thing. If I were to explain it to you, well, for me it is like a good stroke of watercolour on that special paper made just for watercolours, mixed with sea foam green and chamomile tea; sleeping in the same bed with your younger sister; watching good burger for the sixteenth time and having it be just as good as the first; realizing you have enough money to buy the literature necessary for your fourth semester at that silly place called college; knowing that your older brother is in love; being forgiven and making peace with your mom; feeling as though you can run to the aurora borealis and back; and speaking redemption over the man who gave you a name and a home.
It`s kind of like that.
Be alive, brothers and sisters.