I want to say thank you.
I am good at saying thank you.
To my losses, for teaching me how to be a winner.
To my downs, so I can be a pro at getting up.
To my mind and body, for showing me where beauty truly lies.
Regarding my hideous dating choices... thank you so I can spot a good one. And thank you universe, for allowing me to get back out there.
That night of sleep after a bad day. And the morning after.
Countless bad roommates. I'll make money writing about you someday.
A fuck it attitude. Sometimes, the best defense in the world.
To knowing that eventually, some shit doesn't matter. The one thing I wish kids would understand.
To my Mom continually sending her most significant gifts posthumously. Coping skills and a sense of humor. ....(Two very important things to be able to write a list like this one.)
To knowing what DOES matter.
To days without headaches.
To the day I had a flat tire and changed it by myself. On the street, in the pouring rain, while being sick. And refusing a man's help while changing my friend's 4 weeks later.
Or to the grease on my hands after changing the battery in my car.
To bad sex; and the greasy food you have the morning after... with your friends who have good sex.
To close calls and tight deadlines that give you butterflies so nice you do it over and over. And to still coming out on top, cause you knew you could do it anyways.
To pulling all nighters that stress you out so badly and that point at 4 in the morning when all that matters is sleep and you stop stressing over the paper and get that "fuck it" attitude (we all love so much) and you just want to get this paper DONE so you can sleep and you lose all inhibition and seem to spew out the best shit of your life and maybe it's because you're going mad you're so tired your brain is so gloriously calloused yet without a filter (?!) and there it goes you have 15 pages typed (where did that come from???) footnotes or endnotes print staple grande nonfat white mocha no whip and you show up to class looking like you stayed up all night and your professor ends up pushing the deadline back a week, the douche.
To looking at situations knowing that if you were involved, it would have changed everything.
To the mud, the rain, the gravel, the busted knee and mysterious bruise, the oil splatters and marinara driplets, chipped teeth and snag nails, split ends and cowlicks, burnt cookies and undercooked turkey, ripped jeans and broken shoelaces.
To being a survivor. Cheers.
2 comments:
I'd toast to that!
...and here's to realizing that keeping something a secret does more damage than damage control.
...that healing comes from not hiding.
...and that bringing things into the light might seem too bright, but you can really get hurt by tripping over something in the dark.
very insightful!
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