I am painfully aware that I am imperfect. I get too angry, anxious, and gloomy. I think too deeply, and far too often. I buckle under taxation; I have a limited amount of empathy, and I have terrible emotional communication skills. My mind wonders when I am in the middle of tasks, and I fail to meet deadlines. I cling onto, and weigh down the few people on this miserable planet that make me feel comfortable. I have a cynical point of view, (see statement above… “miserable planet”.) I am far from ideal. Life is not ideal. Life is not your friend. Life is a game of chance, luck, and of comedy, and tragedy. Life is as beautiful, as it is disappointing. Life is turbulent. This past week has been one of reflection. I have determined the following statement about life is true. I pose it as a question. What is the difference between scars, and wrinkles? A man with scars has lived life. A man with wrinkles has lived in fear of life. I do not want to die without scars.
Posted on: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 14:45:48 +0000
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