A Pocket Full of Plans

I wish I could fast forward in time to where my heart matches what my mind knows is right. I have a clean slate ahead of me without baggage weighing me down (I hope), and the possibility to see what I'm really made of, why does that seem so scary?

I'm slowly working through all that is floating around in my gut and my head and my stupid wonderful heart. I realize it's okay to feel anger, frustration, or betrayal. I have to be willing to embrace all the feelings I got inside me, but it doesn't have to be directed at anyone or any event.

This sucks any way you slice it, and it was unavoidable any way you slice it. The thing is, that night, we weren't okay and that's okay. That's another brutality of life. Some pain, some problems simply can't be talked away, and I want to try and accept that with as much grace as possible. Life is crazy and unpredictable. Growth is sometimes very damn awful painful, but who wants to stay the same forever?

I wasn't honest with myself when I thought that this would be easy for anyone involved. Today is all right, yesterday was awful (not sleeping the night before sure as hell didn't help), and the passage of time will be the only way to find out what tomorrow will be. Cliche, but true. Living your own life is one of the hardest responsibilities to accept.

Talk about cosmic, the last paragraph in the book I just finished this afternoon:

"But she needed no more advice and no more instruction. She was calm and quiet now with knowing what she had always known, what neither her parents nor Aunt Claire nor anyone else had ever had to teach her: that if you wanted to do something absolutely honest, something true, it always had to be a thing that had to be done alone."

On a lighter note --- GO CUBS GO!