Change is a deadly, concealed weapon and unfortunately, it's in point blank range - right between my eyes. Each doubt-toting round fires louder and deadlier than the last. BANG. One into my stability. BANG. Another into my faith. These past few days have begun either my success or my undoing. I never really expected life as a twenty-something to be THIS complicated. With all these gunshot wounds, I feel like I'm hopelessly bleeding change. As the change drips and pools onto the pavement, life continues to reveal itself. It's time to grow up, and growing up means something's going to sink beneath me as I rise. I thought I had it all figured out. Life made sense up until now.

I indifferently stare at myself in the mirror. My short, labored sigh speaks. It implies my shaken confidence. It narrates my struggle with my sense of self and security. It reassures me that I am talented, artistic person. It reveals my fear as one of my best friends stares mortality in its cold eyes. As this fuck wave of change and possible improvement builds, I struggle to swim in my own reality.

No. My life isn't bad, but life itself should just be better than I perceive it to be right now... and right now, I'm conflicted and scared.

I have to improve...always. Each facet needs to be better.

I need to get better.

Apparently life is the question with no wrong answer, right?




"If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish, and stupid." - Pinititus