but then one day, as you chisel away at your realities, the stuff that you have no control over, the stuff that binds you to the spending of money on things you thought you needed but realized just add clutter to an already dirt filled life, you realize that your realities are so much better than you ever could have envisioned.
you come home tired & drained from working all day at a job that doesn’t ignite your passion but gives you a reason to drag your sorry tired ass out of bed every morning, the bed that lives in the imperfectly perfect house that the bank lets you say you own & all you want to do is take off your shoes & stretch out & let the television entertain you with pretty stories that resemble the dreams about your perfect little life but instead you lace up your sneakers & stick buds in your ears, kiss your equally tired love good-bye as you head out to find the rhythm of your run, the rhythm that allows you to take your focus away from the fact that your lungs are bleeding & your super techie clothes are starting to smell as your sweat is wicked away from your body.
breathe. exhale, exhale, exhale.
you notice how dirty your city is, really dirty, brown dust everywhere, the brown dust of sand poured over, the brown dust of dried leaves & dried trees & the skin of everyone who has come before you. you notice how blue the sky is, how grey the clouds are, how incredible the light really is & how somehow there is a bright red velvet leaf laying gently in the gutter & as your heart pumps loudly & your breathe gasps out, you realize that there are tiny little buds in the trees & green threaded grass lacing itself upwards. it keeps you going & by the time you are a sweaty mass of tired, stretching out the rubber of your legs, you realize that your head is peaceful & you feel a power inside that stretches in its infinite wildness of imperfection.
reality is a zit that has popped up on my forehead, a sweat gland previously unused peeled open. reality is a broken fingernail clipped short & a tear in the bottom of a pair of jeans that i couldn’t fit into two months ago. reality is waking up to snow on the anniversary i had had for 2years, 2months & 6days, because i could still remember walking outside on the day he’s gone & being incredulous that the sun was so bright, the sky so technicolor blue & the world was so filled with green life that it seemed a huge joke on me.
reality is not glossy & is rarely pretty but holy shit, it is so incredibly powerfully beautiful.
Signed with love,
charlie wyy.
Labels: holy shitty.
