It's like masturbation. At first it feels good, but in the end you're only screwing yourself.

Overwhelmed. Crushed. Devastated. Rocked. Drowning.

My head is full of white noise. I can't hear anymore. My frustration is rising, spilling over. AHHHHH! Destruction! Delicate things squeezed in my hand, then thrown against a wall. I want to hear them break apart, see them in pieces.

Perfect. Impeccable. Precise. Polished.

The ideal is bright and shinny. I am drawn to it. I want to possess it. Just as I have convinced myself that it is obtainable, reality lurks out of the darkness and destroys it. The vultures picking and defecating on what is left. People walk by full of pity gazing at the sun scorched remnant.

Exist. Emerge. Arrive. Endure.

Deep breath in, and let it out slowly. Repeat. Lowered expectations=solution? I read that Sandra Cisneros does things that she is afraid of. I thought, "What a novel idea!" I wanted to live this philosophy. Then, fear got in the way. Fear is an annoying little sister. It gets it's sticky fat little fingers around all your things. Then, you can't find anything. Things are broken and ruined. Listen up! My strong will and devotion will kick your ass!

Some days, doing "the best we can" may still fall short of what we would like to be able to do, but life isn't perfect-on any front-and doing what we can with what we have is the most we should expect of ourselves or anyone else. ~ Fred Rogers


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