Happy New Years.

The problem with me is that I strongly believe I wasn't made for this ordinary stuff. I strongly believe that whatever happened to me, is happening, somehow means something. No matter how psychotic, no matter how egotistical, no matter how naive, I strongly believe I was meant for something. Something greater than just this. Something better... something... I feel like I'm playing Russian roulette with the days. As if, if I put this speed bullet into just one day, that one day, I'll be closer to that something. And yet you and I both know I'm still sitting here. Just getting older not something. And I hate myself for it. I want more I edge for better. I seek out goodness. I eat up positivity to get the end result of better.I know what it takes. I read books, blogs, news, flyers on the side of the road about how to get better. And yet here I stand. Nearly better but partially, really just the same. I try to scoop myself up into a good sized lump of better and I do it too quickly and with such haste that I get exhausted. I tear up. I throw up my hands and say "Okay you were right, whoever wants to say I couldn't do it today, you were right." When my real problem may live in the exact pattern that I am changing, but in miniscule results. I am getting better. I am becoming something. But not at the pace I set forth for. But just A pace that's okay for now. And that's okay. Because whatever I can do for now, if not just a small part of me that can change, is more than I could have ever hoped for in considering there may have never been improvement at all.