I tend to get lost in trivial things. Banking on things I know are only temporary. Focusing on the minors whilst I let the majors pass by. I'm like a child, mesmerised by pretty colours, flashing lights and loud sounds. It is only in the silence, at the wee hours of the night that I can no longer escape the truth. The truth that I am broken. Dreams of my youth stand in the background being blurred out by the clangs of my everyday existence. I wish I were stronger, more noble. I wish hard decisions came easy to me, like they do for some.
Doing good is almost a second thought for me, I crave adventure, rebellion, excitement and doing good so rarely seems adventurous, rebellious or exciting. It's like when I was little and wouldn't want to go to bed in fear that I was missing out on something. It always seemed that the hours between 8.30pm and 7.30am must be when all the good stuff happens. The adults bring out the chocolate and the PG movies and everything else good about being old.
I think doing good sometimes feels like going to bed on time, there is a part of me that is convinced I'm missing out. It must be fun right, otherwise why would they have to tell us not to do it? But the funny thing is that on the few times I did stay up late, you know those occasions when one parent isn't home so the other one caves to the pressure, I would sit up watching TV, something really bad ass like "Family of Five" or something and slowly my eyes would close and I would fall asleep on the couch. The chocolate never seemed to come out any more than it did pre 8.30, fireworks didn't go off, party's didn't happen. It was all together a let down and I'd just wake up a little bit more tired for school.
I'll let the metaphore go unsaid because really it's all a bit to obvious isn't it.
Smile often
Beth
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