I’ve had a few tragedies in my life. You’ve had a few tragedies in your life. Some stuff in my life sucks. Some stuff sucks in yours, too. When I dwell on my stuff, it grows. It grows bigger than a horse. Bigger than a house. Much, much bigger than your stuff, of course. And it seems I missed my calling as Mrs. Suess.
I sometimes wrap up in my stuff, bundle it all around me, tuck in the corners, all righty-tighty, and refuse to consider that maybe there's some good stuff in there with the bad. Instead, I poke out my nose... and moan and whine and bitch and complain and wonder why that repels the attention I want, rather than attracts it.
Then, at some point--and probably not soon enough for close friends and family--I realize... gee, this is just life. And I’m only normal.
