Ever feel happy and somewhat content yet ready to throw punches and hand grenades at will? I am right now.
At this ripe medium age I find myself in, I’ve learnt a thing or five. Behind finger number one is the knowledge that if good things are happening and that feeling they call happy has crept into your lap and jumped it’s way into your face, then about three negative factors are currently ramping their way up towards you. Like a heat seeking missile, there is no day without the night. Trouble will find you.
The relationship I’m building at the momento is prit near phenomenal. She is me through and through, minus my obvious maleness. As provolone as it may get, no ones ever gotten me like she does. And it’s truly gouda. We finish each others chimichangas. She makes me wanna whittle a wooden sculpture of Joan of Arc or the Ark of the Covenant from Indiana Jones, either or.
Her support of this guy is off the hizzy. Whatever I may be going through, the strength that she exudes is magnefique. In her, I’ve found my bestest friend. An incredulous mother. A doting dater. A hilarity hot pocket. And a mirror of categorical joy. I heart her.
But with all this gay splendor, arrows of the enemies, sometimes literally, are being sharpened and plucked for damage and destruction, or attempted anyway. And though I fully grasp the “there’s no night without day” connotation but why, if something wonderful comes along, does there need to be like a handful of adversity coming along with it? Always steps backward. As Bon Jovi once stated, “It’s my life.” It’s now or never. I ain’t gonna live forever. I’m just gonna live while I’m alive. Stupid but true.
I’m not going to go into any specific diversities as not to bore or either offend. The fact at hand is one must always be vigilant and ready. Strong and alert. The naysayers seethe their nays not unlike a silly unbridled horse, whinnying and whining. Bucking and upchuckling. Something like this.
I’m reinforced to keep moving, never stand still. They say don’t throw stones in a glass house but I would retort to not let said stones hit you, glass house or not. And who lives in a glass house!? I’d suggest more of a non-polyurethane vinyl, at bare minimum. At least the neighbors wouldn’t see you walking around three quarters nude eighty five percent of the time. Think about it.
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