YOUR THOUGHTS--What do you do when you're having an off day?

The other day (I can't even remember which day) I didn't have such a good day. Typically my go-to reaction to days like this is food, or maybe a good workout or scripture study, but if that doesn't work, I write.

Like there's no tomorrow. But, there's always a tomorrow.

This is what I wrote the other day. See if you relate to it! If not, comment below: what do you do when you are having a crummy day?

Polar weather

Have you ever been so pissed off at yourself

That you just want to dig into the dirt,

Never again to surface?

Have you ever felt the weight of this or that,

And been utterly disappointed with your reaction

To that disgusting pile on your back?

I have.

I have felt that deep self-hatred,

Fueled by endless, inexplicable rage

Towards “x”.

“X” is a changing organism,

Sometimes a human, sometimes a situation,

But always alive.

There is always a reason to feel,

But not all reasons are worth feeling over.

Having tasted the sweet,

Why bother worrying about the bitter?

Understanding the good, 

But knowing full well that your actions are nearly permanently plagued

By the imperfection of the world…

That can really mess you up.

Peace. Endless peace.

Is that what I seek?

Do I wish for sweet release,

Or fights with Dark and Bleak?

Which of these would make me meek?

Do I even care?

Will I, in the darkness, sneak

Beneath His piercing stare?

Will I ever measure up?

How could I ever measure up?

Only through Him.

Regardless of our piety, our pomp, our temporal façade,

And, for that matter, despite every personal yearning,

Darkness will inevitably devour…

Unless I opt to choose the Master’s power.

Frothing, raging, silent, staging;

Such are the contradictions of the one who chose to fall.

Long has he fought, but needlessly he fights.

What makes him so different than I?

Yes; I made a choice before,

I made to seek to be some more,

To be much more than I was then,

To put on, take off, shake off sin,

Through He who showed the perfect way;

The ONLY way that I can say

That my existence claims some worth

Is choosing, every single day,

To propagate his wondrous birth.

But,

Why?

Why does EVERYTHING seem to fight against our happiness?

Why does he care?

Why would he ever care?

How could anyone be that selfish?

Am I that selfish?

Is it the difference that I recall

From that story, written and read long ago—

That he who lived and he who died

Were cut from the same vine,

But that one decided to grow a certain way,

And the other did not?

Is that how it works?

Regardless of however it works, or doesn’t work,

The fact of the matter is that

IT

DOES

WORK.

Whatever crap we’ve waded through,

Whatever slippery rock we stepped on,

All the b.s., all the poo

That’s ever been splashed, dripped, slammed, caked, dropped on

You,

It can go away.

Somehow.

In one place it rains, and rains,

In another, it does not.

Sometimes we are sad,

Sometimes we are not.

Sometimes we jump.

Sometimes we never want to jump again.

But we must jump.

Regardless of the stupid weather.

Rain cannot stop a good man or woman

From jumping into the unknown,

Knowing full well that they could be jumping to their doom.

Doom was expected, and paid for, and a release from it was provided.

But for now, we wait,

And wait,

And irritate others, and ourselves,

And try.

That’s all we can do. 

Sorry, Yoda. 

Have a great day, everyone. :)