[eleven]

There’s a spot on the carpet that is compressed and obvious. It’s right in front of the mirror. We spend so much time staring into our own eyes or fixated at the imperfections no one else notices. I wish I could measure the time I’ve wasted gazing into my own listless eyes, trying to figure out what I’m missing. I’m not fucking missing anything! Everything is here, everything is available. It’s not what I’m missing, it’s what I have. Doubt and expectation have become my biggest foes. When you’re thinking fondly of those childhood years, do you ever think you doubted who you were or waited on expectations of what you should have in your life? No, you were living, you were breathing, you were playing. Waiting was not something you knew how to do. Patience was something they told us was a virtue. They lied. What’s virtuous about sitting on your ass and wishing for meaning to come your way? Forget the self-righteous. Forget what’s expected. The meaning of life is that we are alive. What else is there to do but live?