Wake up! Get up! Move your fucking feet! Kiss the girl!
Look, Life knocks us down. I think the abusive bitch really
enjoys it, because she knocks me out quite a lot. It seems like every time I stand up on my
feet, dust myself off, and start picking up my pace to make a little bit of
forward motion, she’ll drop a damned 747 out of the sky to fall on my head.
But, I’m indestructible, immortal, and a freaking superwoman, because I choose
to be. What’s your excuse?
Listen, I have my moments where I want to lay there on the
ground and just cry because of how unfair life can be, is, or will always
be. But, I’m not five-years old. Add forty years to that, and a whole lot of
responsibility never really having time to be a brat. I’m jealous of you
spoiled mother-fuckers that always had someone else looking after you, cleaning
up your messes, wiping your noses, and patting you on the head telling you what
a good job you’ve done. Take your
participation trophies and wrap them up in your dirty diapers, and go suck on
your binky. I don’t have time for your pity party. Believe me, I’ve been trying to have one for
the last few years, and it isn’t working!
Hey! Knock it off.
Suck it up, Buttercup. It’s time
to get up. It’s time to move, even if you don’t know which way to go, move
anyway. The sad part is not moving,
being stuck in the moment, being mired in the muck of self-pity. Learn this
lesson: Life is NEVER fair. NEVER! Fair has never existed, and it never
will. This is a stupid concept ingrained
into our psyche as children and we carry it with us throughout our lives,
beating ourselves up when LIFE throws us a monkey wrench. We are taught that WE are in control of the
bullshit that happens in our lives. That
if we are good, good will happen to us.
That if we are fair, fair will find us.
BULLSHIT! You tell that to every
abused child, cancer patient, soldier’s widow, the betrayed, the rejected, and
the good-hearted discarded because keeping up is hard. Life is not fair. She never was. She never has been. She never
will be. So, get up!
Want to know what you control? Nothing, except HOW you
respond. That’s it. That’s all the control you have. You can’t control the universe, you can’t
control the weather, you can’t control the ocean’s tide, you can’t control
someone else’s response, you can’t control God, you can’t control the economy, you
can’t control anything. You can bribe, manipulate, lie, and scheme, but you
can’t control anything in life except how YOU respond to it. That’s who you are. Not who you say. Not who you think. Not what
some piece of paper says, by degree or birth certificate. You are how you respond to every little and
every big decision you make.
Stop being a pussy. Stop being afraid of making a
mistake. Fucking make a mistake, because
you’re at least living, doing, deciding.
Stop hiding. Stop wallowing. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop WAITING
for the right time, the right person, the right circumstance. Stop waiting to win the lottery. Stop WAITING
and start fucking moving. Start making decisions. Start making choices. STOP making
excuses. I’m so fucking tired of hearing
excuses. I hear it at work, I hear it at
home, I hear it in society all around me.
I hear it out of my own mouth.
The mantra is … “I can’t… because. I won’t… because. I don’t…
because. I hear that bullshit a whole
lot more than I’d like to admit. But,
that’s the problem. Until we admit to ourselves, until we recognize our
reactions, our inaction, and our whiny excuses… we can’t change them. So, as a
society, we keep ourselves distracted with bullshit, nonsense, shit that don’t matter,
so we don’t have to hear our souls
crying out to open our fucking eyes. Because to open our eyes to the truth is
to be faced with the choices that define us.
We WANT to be fair. We want life
to be on Easy Street. We want someone to change our diapers for us, to take
away all the shit we’ve produced, and give us a clean diaper so we can soil
that too. Feed us, because we don’t want
to learn to feed ourselves. Hold our
hands, because we don’t want to face the struggle it takes to walk on our own.
Coddle us, because our little feelings are hurt. Rock us, because we’re
sleepy. We bitch about putting on ten
pounds, all the while stuffing our feelings.
Move. Choose. Kiss the girl - life! She’s right in front of you. See her.
Stop thinking about whether you’re making a mistake, or will there a
better option tomorrow, or will she love you back because all the girl’s you’ve
kissed before had hurt, abused, and used you?
Stop being a fucking coward and kiss the girl. It’s better to have
kissed, than to have missed your opportunity, because guess what… life will
continue without you. All you’ve lost is
the opportunity to really live. To live in the moment. To get out of life ALL that you can in that
moment… whether it ends up being a mistake.
Even from our mistakes, we live.
I have a life full of mistakes, but not ONE regret.
I lived for nearly twenty years doing the ‘right’ thing, the
practical, the responsible, the ‘good’ thing, and I don’t regret any of it,
because it was to fulfill the dream of being able to provide a certain life for
my kids. That was my dream. However, I didn’t do a whole lot of living in
that era, nor the era before .
I was too busy trying to be good, to be right, to make responsible choices and
so afraid of disappointing everyone else around me, of disappointing God, and
of making a mistake. THAT was the true mistake. Because all that did was steal life from me.
I’ve got some heavy choices before me, and many of those
choices paralyze me because I’m so afraid of making the wrong one. I’ve spent so much time being afraid of the
consequences of those choices, because I know life isn’t fair. I’ve felt the pain and suffering of an unfair
life. Those burn scars still hurt today. But, this is me this morning, puckering my
lips… ‘cause you know what… I want to kiss!
I don’t want to just kiss, but I want to rip my clothes off and make
beautiful, passionate love. If it turns
out to be a mistake, at least I had an orgasm, and my toes curled, and my
stomach had butterflies.
Kiss! Kiss!
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray
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