October 3, 2009

If you gotta run, run from hope

If I strung together every good moment- every moment that felt cozy and warm and full of promise- if I tucked them in next to each other, consecutively, I will have had a very nice time with you.
If I took everything I meant to say but didn't, I don't know if we would be friends still. We could be greater or lesser. I don't know. Maybe I was having fun with the puzzled expression on your face. Or maybe I didn't think you could handle it. Or that I couldn't handle it. Probably, I didn't want to handle it.

If there is a large margin of likeliness that I am fucked, I am probably fucked. There's usually a very small but a fully formed team of hope for the opposing defense, but when you are fucked, then oh well.
I have a keen sense for when a situation I'm in is pretty much fucked. "Fuckdar."
It's like a pop quiz in Algebra. You're barely prepared but you always knew this was an inevitability.

The next best thing to preparing for success is to prepare for failure. I do it begrudgingly, but it's a vaccination that must be taken. The blows are going to come so you may as well build a fort (of pillows?). This has become so commonplace in my life it doesn't even move me. I've resigned to meeting certain dead ends that the only better alternative is to turn the fuck around and floor it. Your feet may take you the way they know when you have no certain destination, and then you find yourself someplace familiar but somewhere you never meant to be.

If you are ready, best not to wait around. Don't squint or flinch. Make eye contact and shake hands firmly. Don't be irreverent about it, don't take it so lightly. This is your life, and as far as you know you only get one of your own. It won't be perfect. You may not even know what perfection is for a very long time, though it may come to you in brief moments. Don't forget them. They may be the only things worth keeping in the end.

And if you aren't ready, get ready.

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