The pictures in your cubical prove that happiness isn’t a paycheck, a Christmas party, or a dress down Friday. Happiness is the grass your family lays on, the yoga lessons you rush to after work, the pizza tradition you cling to, every Friday night. It’s the journal entries you keep at three a.m, the guitar lessons you apologize for ahead of time, the Netflix shows you binge watch on a rainy Sunday morning.
You have a job beyond rush hour and cafeteria lines. You have a job to live effortlessly. A job to live happy.
There’s a way to be rich doing what you love but for as long as you look at fabric lined walls, with lifeless eyes and a painful routine, the pictures in your cubical will remind you of the chances you didn’t take. They will absorb your possibilities. Your wasted potential. They will remind you that you’re there because your heart may speak the loudest but your head plays the safest.
To lose you is to admit defeat to a world that works against us. A world offended by simple love. To lose you is to hate the universe for the happiness it takes to soon. The futures it cuts too short. I offer to lose you time and time again; hoping fate will tire and move on. Turns out fate has those same plans for me.
Fate has no patience. No hesitance. No we’ll see how it goes. No mercy on the love letters or the people who sign them. Fate gives you a box of tools and the hands to use them. Gives you people to love and the hands to hold them.
Fate’s a coincidence that works out. A consequence meant to last. This is the last time I’ll lose you, as I fight an impossible battle but as fate has promised, this will one day make sense.
We remember the seconds before a kiss, before a crash, before a life-changing matter. We care about the seconds that affect us, change us, do something for us.
We strive to live life to the fullest, to live every second like it’s our last, but if every second were to be so special, full of memorable moments, it would no longer stand out from average. It would be just another second, mixed up with the rest.
We value seconds like we should value the people who fill them.
If we fill our lives with many people, how can we know who the special ones are? The ones that will affect us, change us, do something for us. The ones worth spending seconds on.
Value triggers greed. We want more. We want perfection; but the more people we have in our lives, the less seconds we have to give them. They will no longer stand out from average and we will no longer know the difference.
Your childhood blanket that once doubled as a shield withers into threads. The house you grew up in acts as a home for a new family, making memories in place of yours. Your parents are a phone call away but there’s no spot in their bed for you to crawl into. There’s no ice cream in the fridge, served with the promise to make everything better.
But regardless of the cruel world that is adulthood, there is hope. There is reassurance that people amongst us are wearing sincere smiles inspired by the innocence in life. There is love after love; there is life after loss. So don’t lose your youth or you’ll lose your mind, for morning turns to night as our age is wasted in time.
They say dating is a numbers game, leaving no hope for the girl that can’t settle. You see something you want, you forfeit your emotions and more often then not, you get nothing in return. It’s not your fault you’re holding out, waiting for someone worth loving. Waiting for someone willing to figure out your connect the dots.
Don’t let your guard down. Don’t cut your dreams short. Don’t let go of your overall. One day someone will put an end to your doubts. One day you’ll look into someone’s eyes and see where you stand with them and the thought of standing alone will never again make sense.
Some people are simply motivation. Your enemy should make you want to be better, your ex should make you want to do better. You need someone to push you on stage despite stage fright. Someone to chase you in threat so you’ll run. Someone to taint your once confidence so you’re driven to get it back.
Don’t say someone never gave you anything because for better or for worse, they gave you a reason to wake up in the morning. As long as you come out stronger, you can’t wish for anything better. So, don’t feel sorry for yourself in hopes that someone else will too.
You can’t believe the world looks at you any different then the way your mirror does. Your self-image sits as a devil on your shoulder, whispering critique and hate.
You lay your clothes out the night before, shopping at the same stores they do. You buy extra promising foundation, hoping the haunting remains of your teen years will soak into your skin. Your hair won’t grow the way you want it to, your body won’t shape your clothes the way you wish they would.
You do everything to hide your imperfections. To erase the things you hate. To battle the impurities you hide behind, day after day.As hard as it is to believe, you’re more then a number on the scale. More then a number of likes on a picture. So be proud to be a paint-by-number and they’ll still look at you like art.
Stop and look around or you’ll miss a puppy see it’s first flower, or a baby take it’s first steps. You’ll miss the teen on the bus give their seat to an elderly women and your neighbor will hold open the door. You’ll miss one homeless person share their sandwich with another and you’ll watch a child’s face light up, with a new teddy in their arms.
You’ll look at your feet because life doesn’t deserve your smiles. You have the ability to be selective. To see what you want – to want what you know. And with every step you’ll remind yourself of heartbreak and pain. The humans that start wars and the evil on the news. You look down to avoid a truth you can’t stand. The world is full of messed up people. Broken people, but for as long as you let yourself turn your head to reality, you’re letting yourself be one of them.
Too often, we are bonded by time. By the yo-yo of memories we share with a person. We make our mistakes in pen. Forever imprinting ourselves with things we can’t run from, things we can’t forget. Sometimes we stay, long after loves left because the past is comfortable and the past once made sense.
No matter the depth a relationship has fallen, there’s a way to climb out and escape it’s tight grip. There’s new memories to make and new people to make them with, so don’t lose your sense of wonder. Don’t dirty your blank slate with marker and don’t forget how to love, like you never heard his name.
You hold a fascination for all things bad. Bad for you. Bad to you. You fall for the wrong people. You love knowing they have dark thoughts, bad habits and broken personalities hidden beneath their fearless attitudes. You love the intensity of their moods and the honesty in their words. You quickly accept you can’t have simple love. You need someone to fight daemons with you.
In the midst of falling for others flaws, you fall victim to your own. You begin feeding your inner enemy, confusing your mistakes for who you want to be. You look at your life through a tangled web of rope. You hide behind the wrong people and the wrong choices; despite hating the person they make you.