write

life is hard.

it doesn't always feel good and i'm definitely not always happy-clappy.

life sometimes comes hard and fast and at other times more like a slow drip.

i get irritated about my own proclivity of doing whatever to make it my way.

contentment takes its queue from comfort, and anger takes its queue from annoyed.

i wish circumstances didn't dictate my reaction to life. 

a small ridge forms in between my eyes a lot of days.

the lines stay there for awhile to remind me of the gruel of patience.

i complain more than i accept the way things simply are.

it's so hard to loose anger and disappointment at how things aren't. 

yet, it's really actually easier and less exhausting to let things be.

i'd like to be more tolerable that everything is out of my control.

barbed wire juts out from my mouth when i don't get what i want.

there's usually such a bloody mess left in the wake of my selfish impulsiveness.

i've learned what leads me to back to love my own messy self. 

it settles the popcorn in my noggin and gives me permission to be.

it's how i remember i'm human, in my raw and real and free.

i write.

this is my worship.

linking with Lisa-Jo.