It’s not ever going to be perfect and that’s OK

I catch myself feeding into a cycle of dissatisfaction where I want things to be how I want them to be. But they can’t be that way. And even the way that I wanted them to be on Sunday has changed by the time that Thursday has rolled around.

So much energy going into that solid concept of how I want it to be. How it should be dammit.

Release the grip on the leash to see how it feels between my fingers and jerk back as it all takes off downhill. I shout. I yell.

YOU COME BACK HERE!!!!

COME BACK.

Fuck it. I’ll get another concept to cling to and start raising it from scratch. Maybe this one might eat me alive.