like sugar pouring into tea

There are soft sounds in this place we exist in. Like fish moving through water in a fishbowl, or fabric of strangers gently touching one another, or the quiet kiss of lovers in the dark. Small things we miss when busy doing the rest of our life. Or we make a resolution and vow to stand firm, to not change course, to stop this or that, to get our old bodies back, or get a new job. Doesn't matter if its New Years or a new day, we like to set goals, to see ourselves as more than beggars by the end of the day, yet when that time comes and our heads hit the pillow- another soft sound- we deem our attempts all failures.

But to try is something. To lean forward against the current, to fight the waves as they crash on your chest, to resist is something. Means something. And those lies we fight in our heads, the ones that tell us how awful we are, they can go to hell. We have to have the discipline to do what we said, but also the grace to forgive ourselves when we feel as though we failed. What good is grace or forgiveness if it's not practiced on ourselves. Now I suppose I should counter my argument with the introduction or rather the discipline within the idea of grace. That while all things are forgiven, they are all not all encouraged. Why want to lose weight but eat nothing but fast food? or want to say "no" but can't find the courage to do it? When we fail at those daily goals and we see that we did, we can either get fiery mad or we can get grit our teeth and say "tomorrow is another day".

There is no point in the incessant battering of our own ego. We are our biggest critics by far. I know I have a list of what's wrong with Sean that I look at. But the truth is, the the good outweighs the bad, and always will. So no matter how fat or pale or whatever I think I am, there are other things that make those uniquenesses rather small and just silly. And I want you to know, too, that we all can forgive ourselves, but lets fight. Let's do what we say we will do. Let's wake up tomorrow and find our goals and achieve them and live everyday like it's a continual spiral staircase, and improvement and progression is the only answer. I know I don't want to be who I was when I was 24, and no one else should either. But those are only parts, not the whole, just a sentence in a story, while the rest of the novel writes itself.

Let the pan and the paper decide what's next. And that's another one of the softest sounds.