Things Are Wrong.
Make them right.
Things just don’t feel right. Instead, they feel wrong. So wrong. And it’s a soft, subtle kind of wrong. The type of wrong that is hidden well beneath the surface, only perceptible by those with a well-trained eye.
Do I have a well-trained eye?
I get the impression that even with my well-trained eye, the wrongs still keep coming. Unapologetic in their pursuits and dismissals. Flippant about what’s fair and what’s not.
I’m left feeling meek, meager, vulnerable, susceptible to… bullshit.
Pour thy heart, pour thy soul, and I’m met with the brunt of a hard knock life? Are you kidding me? What the f*ck is this?
Far too often I’ve been wondering whether I’m being played. Madly, in my face. It is ridiculous. And I care less and less and less and… I feel beyond stripped, dried out on the floor.
I’m becoming more careless in my expressions, in my work. I care less about what others think. I care less about perfection.
I care less… I care right. And this just may be the only thing that’s right right now.
That, and this unwavering resolve around the notion that “There is a way. There absolutely is a way out of this. There absolutely is a way through this. There absolutely is. There is a solution. There is a path. There is an alternative. There is an answer. There is.”
It’s no longer a matter of ifs, ands, or buts.
Only yes. Only focus. Only absolutes.
And with the equipment of my wits, whimsy, and wisdom well intact, I’m off in search for the way. Dipping, dodging, navigating the rounds of obstacles both on inner and outer planes. Praying to the patchwork quilt that is my higher power for keen discernment of what action steps are aligned versus modes of self-sabotage.
Far too often I’ve been hoping for a miracle to fall into my lap. So much so, that I fear my jadedness now gets me better than my middle name.1 I’m back at the drawing board again for the umpteenth time, and much like the past iterations I feel some sort of different.
Harder… more real… resolved to make the most out of the rock beneath my feet… disappointed… slightly majestic… afraid… sensitive… sensual…
To the magic hidden deep within, far underground, even well beyond the wrong. Like a sprout coming from a purified fountain of youth, truth, soothing rain, mists glistening abound. Abundance—a cornucopia filled with all that’s needed.
To survive, and thrive, on the surface.
…
*Whispers “Oh, just help me help myself.”
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Which is Jade, by the way.