Is it the story of life? Or just the story of my life?
Just when you think you’re ok, that you’re going to be ok – you fail dismally again at it (you know, at life) and it’s like you’re right back where you started. And in the same way, just when you think its all done. All over. That you literally can’t try any harder or keep trying any longer. You do. Somehow, somewhere you find something in you. And you swing around, and do it again.
Like a swing and a roundabout, life that is. Back and forth with extreme joys, adrenalin rushes, and overwhelming moments of dance (run)-in-the-rain varieties. And round and round, in circles – making the same mistakes and living the same joys and lows, over and over again.
I know some people prefer it to be simple. Less complicated. Easier.
But I think I may sort of like it this way.