Some days are easier than others. Some days, easy is good enough. Some days, easy is the unattainable. But most days, easy is just that. Easy. And nothing great is ever easy.
Some days, it’s easier not to try, than to try and fail. Some days, the guilt isn’t that bad. Some days, I strive towards goals. But those days are few and far between.
I am God’s daily masochistic peep show.
Wasn’t the lesson that Eve eating the apple was bad? That we are forever cursed? But cursed is my theme song. Because for all the innocence lost, for the shame we feel, for our impending damnation, it makes me feel alive.
Bring on the heartbreak. Bring on the failure. Bring on the scabbed knees, wrong turns, and sleepless nights. Because I’m not broken yet.
I’ve got far too much left in me. This iron heart may be dented and rusted, but godammit, she’s a runner. I need more fights. More cheap shots. More sucker punches. More back stabs and disappointing friends.
Because I’m still laughing. And I never stopped swinging.
So bring it on. You don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with.