I wonder why we as human beings always seem to think that when things are at there worst...they will never get better. I myself am guilty of this. I have found myself in the position so many times to just feel tired...to not want to go on. Just stumble around this hectic world until my lottery number comes up and I get hit by a greyhound bus while walking across the street, talking on my cell-phone like a fucking zombie.
But it's strange. Some how, some way, things always turn around. They always get better. Do we always recognize this? No...I don't think we do. Sometimes that pit of self-pity that we drown ourselves in feels too comfortable, to warm. Those jacuzzi jets are on full speed hitting you right in the middle of the back, the sweet spot. Who would want to drag themselves away from that when it becomes what we are used too?
There have been a few times in my life when I have let the upward climb go completely over my head. I was so miserable I didn't realize I had the opportunity to be happy. Could you call that self-pity? Or just plain ignorance? Probably both, but the older I get the more I realize that most of my life has been spent in a funk. So much of it has been unfilling and unrewarding. Let downs, heartbreak, just plain hurt. There for awhile I resigned myself to the fact that that was just the way it was going to be, no matter how hard I tried or no matter how much I gave.
Well...do you know what I say to that? Fuck that. I'm tired of thinking that this is all there is. That life is a bitch. Here's your fucking quarter...go call someone who gives a shit. All this time I thought I was tired of trying when in reality I'm just damn tired of being bitter and hateful.
They say life is what we make it. To some extent that is true...but sometimes you can't avoid those people who dig pot holes in your little highway of life. You know, the little trolls with the crooked nose and the red beady eyes. The ones who always hide behind a rock to watch you slip and fall. They are the ones who say they love you and don't mean it. They are the ones who say they will be there for you and then aren't. Well, I'm here to tell you the next one I come across is getting a .45 in the fucking temple. Am I going to cry about it? No. I'm I going to feel guilty? No. I'll step over it's still twitching body and get ahold of the people who care about me and go have a damn margarita. Out of sight...out of mind.
I'm going to right some wrongs. I'm going to get back on that happy track again. I want my life to have more meaning then it does. I think I've finally found the left turn I should have taken when I went right. I refuse to sit here and wallow in it. Like I said...FUCK THAT. I'm done mourning. I'm done hating (well...most people). I'm a hell of a woman and I deserve to be treated like it. The one who can do that will be the happiest man in the world. That's a guarantee. So hold onto your hats folks because there is a new and improved Renea on the horizon. Bigger...better...and fucking awesome. You don't believe me? Just ask...I'll tell ya.
