I've come to accept that my posts never make much sense, are never spaced out properly, and will never be as 'cool' as some of the others I read...and I think that's just fine. Maybe.
I mean, let's face it. I'm random, at times inconsolable, a nap-aholic, and a helmet nazi. I take my roles seriously and I go all out. If I like you...I reallllly like you. If I dislike you.....there's a pretty big death stare that I'll shoot your way. I have my OCD tendencies and the ol' ED pops up routinely (like rent or a bad weed...or an evil step-mother if you're Cinderella). But you know what...overall...I'm an ok person. It's taken 21.5ish years to realize that I'm just as important as the next Joe Shmoe on the street and I'm proud of myself for how far I've come.
I say this as I sit thinking of some of the people I know. Their lows have been lower and their highs higher than mine have (and hopefully ever will) but that does not change our standing. In the end...we're all just little beings of carbon, might, and heart...trying to push on...to an end unknown.
I don't know about you...but I'm scared shitless and aching for tomorrow already.
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