The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.

It's just one of those disgusting days. 

Actually, today was the most gorgeous a day has been all year.

The breeze, the sun, the sky, the lazing students sprawled on blankets across the lawns...it was beautiful today.

Outside, anyway. 

Inside, I was feeling pretty busted.

You know that feeling where you want something or you need something, desperately, and you don’t know what it is and you don’t know where to get it or how or why? Like you have this enormous gaping void and it is screaming to be filled…but you have no idea how to go about doing that?

 I don't know. Sometimes you’re so scared. And, you know that kind of sick, feverish, sweaty, scared where you're scared and you don't know why or what to do or how...And the worst kind of scared is when you aren't sure exactly why you feel the way you feel. 

Or maybe you do know exactly why and you don't want to know.  

And it just sucks. It just sucks. Balls.

Because here you are just trying to live your life: trying to go to your classes on time and not swallow your gum and smile and call your mom each night and separate your whites and darks and take the stairs and all that, and you're just trying to follow the recipe for being okay and more or less content…and out of nowhere life is just like,"Hey screw you, kid. Let me throw a wrench at your face.”

Or something. 

And sometimes, it's like how I felt today, and that wrench? The one that slaps the taste out of your  mouth?  That wrench is just a feeling. Foreboding, ominous, exhausting, sad, inadequate, lonely. One of those killers. (Inadequate always gets me, nothing is worse than not being enough for someone…If you need that for future revenge, feel free, reader-friend of mine.)

And sometimes that wrench might be some major shit that happens as tends to happen in life.

And sometimes it's goodbyes and heartbreaks. 

And whatever. But it's always something. 

It's always something.

And sometimes it feels like I'm just living from one something to the next. And my life is just a series of somethings with breaks in between. And those breaks involve a lot of eating.

They tell you not to cry over spilt milk, and that there are plenty of fish in the sea, and that you tried your best and that’s what matters, and that there’s a plan, and that heaven is a much more wonderful  place than earth ever was, that you’ll see them again some day and that it’s not goodbye, only see you later, that time heals everything…

And while your crumpled up on the floor, in fetal position, sobbing, in a yellow-green, foul, acrid, puddle of souring milk, wanting that one fish, the only one that wants nothing to do with you, wishing you did better than your best because you know you could have done better, hating the plan, hating this earth, yearning for later and still waiting…you realize…

Sometimes…sometimes spilt milk is just really, really sad.

It’s sad and it’s messy and it’s cold and it’s wet and it's everywhere and it’s everything and it’s life. It’s life and sometimes you have to cry about it. You have to cry really hard about it, sob, scream, punch the wall, about it…you have to do all of these things, but then you have to realize that no matter what you feel like, you will survive. 

You have to survive. You can fail and fail and fail, an infinite amount of times, but you’ll always come out breathing, maybe barely, but still breathing. 

Some failure in life is inevitable. You can’t live your life without failing at something, unless you live so carefully and quietly and pathetically that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you failed at life. Pardon my slang. It actually works here, though. (My middle name is pun. No it’s not, but it is double entendre.) 

Failure means you can come out stronger, smarter, better, harder and that you are a survivor. Life is so hard, and complicated, and beyond anyone’s total control, and you have to cry over the spilt milk sometimes, but you know what? Someone will wipe it up. And it’ll be ok. You’ll make mistakes, but things always work out. Things are always going to be ok.

Everything will be ok…in the end.

If it’s not ok, it’s not the end. 

You’ll make mistakes, and voila! Laissez faire, life will fix them in due course.

And for any other mistake you make, just say Voldemort killed your parents. Unbeatable excuse. 

Life. It’s all anyone has. It’s all we have. You can say it’s hard, but compared to what?

 And everyone has these "somethings" they deal with. These effing struggles, man. They hit you like a sack of bricks right in the stomach and you try to catch them and handle them and push the weight off, but sometimes it's too much and it happens to everyone. And it sucks for everyone. You just have to smile because what else can you do?

Because you know? You just have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance, just to keep the world from running you crazy.

Because when you lose your smile, you lose your footing.

Because if you take it too seriously, you'll start living in your struggles and you’ll isolate yourself because you’ll think yours are worse than anyone else’s. 

When you’re struggling with something, look at all the people around you and realize that every single person you see is struggling with something, and to them, it’s just as hard as what you’re going through.

So what if you didn’t sleep last night or you had too much stress or your life sucks?

Tough shit, cowboy, no one slept last night, everyone had too much stress. 

There’s no escape.

There’s no excuse.

Suck it up and be nice. 

Some people might be annoying or obnoxious or rude or conceited or arrogant or stupid, but you suck, too. Everyone has flaws and the best way to live your life is to accept that fact and focus on the good things about people or you won’t survive this world. Trust. There’s a reason for the way they are and there are reasons for the way you are. Everyone has a story.

There’s not a single person in this world you couldn’t love if you knew their story.

I believe that. I believe it hard. 

I also believe in hope. I believe in a happy ending for everyone. 

I believe that what you want now, might not be what you need, but at the end of it all, what you have will be perfect for you in every way and your millisecond on this universe won’t be a millisecond at all, rather it will stretch on forever, like an ocean of time, it’ll happen all at once, and it’ll be too much, and not enough and everything you ever wanted and everything you never wanted and you’ll be so blissfully, incredibly, happy for the rest of eternity. 

That'll happen, when it happens, but for now,

I’m here. I'm ok. 

I am in limbo, and in limbo there are no races, no prizes, no changes, no chances. There are merely degrees of endurance, and endurance never was my strong point.

And everything’s changing.

I'm afraid of what that may mean.