For the Harder Days

Life is anything but fair.

About a week ago, for the first time in a long time, I found myself laying in bed cursing out the world for how hard life can be. And this isn’t the first time that I’ve found myself in this position, infuriated, tears streaming down my face, thinking of the problems that all my close friends and family are going through, alongside myself. I think this stems from my own personal bullshit that then turns my attention making me realize that in some way, shape, or form, everyone has their own version of this. Suffering. Everyone has their own version of suffering and it’s something that’s eaten me alive for a number of years now.

I wish life was fair, but it’s not. I wish life was a cake walk, but it’s not. I wish we didn’t have to numb ourselves just to make it through a single day, but we do. I wish underlying anxiety didn’t control my life, but it does. I wish I didn’t have to admit that, but I do. As I write this, my necks seizing up, something new to add to the list. Something new to worry about that in return makes my anxiety a little worse. A sick vicious cycle. And I wish it wasn’t the case, but it is. This is reality and it fucking blows.

I’m usually a happy go lucky kind of guy––for the most part––but that night I found myself not denying any sort of the suffering, pain, and devastation, that is a reality throughout life. I don’t ever deny that that side of life exist and choose to always see the good, but that night I saw none of the good in life and it fucking scared me. It scared me because there are people who view the world through that type of lens on the daily. “Why the fuck is he happy?” “Who the fuck is she to be smiling like that?” “Why does he have it so easy?” Why does it hurt so much to see people doing good? It hurts so much because when you can’t seem to find your way out of the darkness, how dare someone else be able to. How dare someone beat their own demons as yours are currently clawing for you any chance that they can get. And I get it. That night I absolutely got it. But to get stuck in that mindset is not the way. You’ve been swimming in your own filth for so long that you forgot that your own ladder out was right behind you the entire time.

I get the whole discomfort is essential for growth spiel. Fuck, I preach it like it’s going out of style––but hey, guy, sometimes I don’t fucking want to hear all that positive hippy dippy bullshit. Rightly so. Most likely you don’t want to hear it because in that moment it can potentially rob you from how you’re truly feeling. If you’re upset, be fucking upset. If you’re sad and had a shit week, hey, maybe even a shit month, don’t deny that shit. Shit, man. If you have anxiety, depression, anger issues, a comparison complex, fucking acknowledge that and own it. But all I ask is that when the time is right, we find the courage to move past it without carrying that poison with us. I truly don’t think there’s a point to life. I think this life is whatever the fuck you want it to be. Want to be a bitter meth addict wandering the streets for your entire life? The job is yours. Want to be someone who’s just barely getting by because you’re too lazy to take action? Again, job is yours. Or do you want to be that someone who, matter of fact, life is fucking good. I am living this life the way that I want. That job is up for grabs, my friends. To any one of us. At the end of the day any one of those options are as feasible as the next and when you really think about it, that’s some scary shit. So, we have to ask ourselves, are we going to continue to carry that poison with us for years to come, or do we say fuck it and decide to throw on the rose colored glasses for a little while?

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