But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.
Last night’s rant about shit.
I see the world as a vat of excrement with tiny bits of brownie chunk mixed in. They’re hard to find. And honestly you can barely tell the difference when you finally come across one. But it happens. And you sit there and wonder how you can be sure when it’s covered in whatever the world decided to shit on it that week. So you stare at it for a while, up and down, left to right. But you still don’t know. The only way to be certain is to take a bite. So you weigh the options and come to terms with this idea that it’s just one of those risks worth taking. And yea, sometimes there’s still some shit on it, but after a while you get to the center of what it really is. And you’re kind of amazed. Because it’s exactly what you were looking for this whole time. And you feel this tiny shimmer of hope that everything is going to be okay. Or you just ate shit and hate the world because it’s just a fucking mess.