Sometimes life just throws you curve balls.
You think you know what you are doing, that the rainbows are brightly shining ahead, and you are moving mountains.
And then bam, from left field comes the ball that almost takes you out of the game.
You swing hard, but it’s too late.
The anger boils and you want to rant.
Rant at the companies that don’t get it.
Rant at being taking advantage of.
Rant at the lack of gratitude.
Rant at working your tail off for little reward.
Rant at being the positive, happy guy while you watch the arseholes get ahead.
Rant at the stupid DVD promising you you’ll lose five kilos a week if you sweat profusely only to have it fall from your face onto your butt.
Rant at the clutter, rant at the bills, rant at the crappy Daewoo you took as a sacrifice for your dreams.
Rant at the dream.
But what good does ranting do. It’s small and bitter and gets you nowhere.
That’s why you gotta GET IT OUT.
Your mind battles with the demons inside wanting to say,
“I told you so. Who did you think you are? You’re a fool for even thinking that you could do it.”
You read a story to your precious daughter about the importance of loving yourself. You ask her what she loves about herself. She can’t answer. How fucked up is that? She’s four and can’t tell me.
Who taught her that?
I’ll tell you what I love about you.
I list all the things that make her special, her creativity, the way she makes up dances and songs that entertain me, her loving nature, how smart she is and how much she makes my heart sing.
And then I want to cry, and tell her I’m sorry.
Sorry for being a fuck up and not being able to give her more. Sorry for promising and failing and just not getting it right.
The fierce spirit you need to fight life back catches me,
“How is that talk teaching her to love herself? If I can’t be kinder to me, how can she?”
Life throws you curve balls. That’s just life, it doesn’t mean anything.
It’s up to you to decide to walk away with your head dragging along the ground or to step up to the plate and START SWINGING.
There are three strikes in this game and I am not out of it.
I’m going to come back swinging HARDER and FASTER than I ever have before.
I’m going to scream, “Is that the best you’ve got, because it was piss weak.”
Go on and try it this time.
You’re allowed one curve ball, life.