A Breath

They always say that life doesn't stop for anyone, a fact that is certainly making itself apparent at the moment. But that's alright. I've found it's often good that most of us never get the chance to just curl up in a dark room somewhere and pretend like the world will be a better place when you finally leave again. If life stopped for anyone, ever, then how could you have a reason to get out of bed in the morning?

Life is a lot better when I stop defining happiness by numbers. If this summer has taught me anything, it is that shit happens. And that a whole lot of shit is likely to happen all at once. That is just the way it is. So whether it is money or time or family or a lack of a Parisian place to live or an intense and growing hatred of the French or interpersonal relationships, it doesn't matter. Because it is all shit that has to be sorted out and will be sorted out and there's no way around it. You pay what you have to, you do what you have to, you say what you have to because that is what life asks of you. And life doesn't ask these things of you politely, life demands these things. In return, you get to breathe for a couple more moments. And that's fine by me.