and there are those times that happen,
where I look around at the current state of my life,
and it’s really fucking difficult to see past
how kinda fucked and frustrating things are right now,
and just get my ass in gear, and get to work, get out of this cafe by where I’m parked
and not pretend this isn’t happening
because if i don’t get workin’, then I won’t find a home, and things can’t last too long this way
and if I can’t find a a home, then i’ll have to tell her to go away
because I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror, much less have her look at me,
and it’s strange how all the things I have done and gotten through seem so easily forgotten
and i’ve rolled down similar hills before, and have just kept going down faster,
and I know all I have learned, and remember all the lessons, and fuck, some were hard
and i know all I have learned, it’s inside, just waiting for me to smile again
and I know, all I have to do is smile, find that fucking “bright outlook” again,
and I know, things will get better, and it’s a beautiful day, I have wonderful friends
and I need to get down to the wharf
get back to my van, change my clothes and slap on the makeup,
innevitably bump my head a few times on the roof of the van, which always
makes me laugh delightfully at the absurdity, then off
to make other people smile because that’s usually all it takes
and it lasts a good few hours until I again wonder how I’m going to do this,
and honestly, I’m so goddamn weary,
all I want to do is paint a room that is mine a deep maroon
hang blue christmas lights everywhere
set up my altar
burn some sage, light some incense
light the candles on my grandmothers candleabra
and put it in a place where it will stay,
lay down on my bed,
look around my room,
blow out the candles, and sleep, knowing that I just may wake up in the very same spot
a year or two from now,
and I should know just to know that it will happen, I should know to remember, I should to know to believe
and i do, but sometimes, it’s fucking hard not to kinda give up,
but writing about it, especially the part about bumping my head,
made things quite a bit better, and got the woe-is-me out,
and I’ve been in worse places before, and it’s a beautiful day, always, as long as I make it that way
and some people don’t even have a van.

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