I find myself constantly grappling with the universe and what I put into it. I’ve gotten over the feeling that I am taking up space. After all everyone is here for a reason, right? An existentialist would disagree, but luckily I am not one.
In addition to grappling with the universe, I’ve also mingled with death and found myself begrudging God. Sometimes I think the universe and God are an unforgiving tag team. Then I remember that I am not alone and, that everyone promenades with this omnipotent duo and soon after one usually tries to dismantle its divinity by pretending they’ve never even met to begin with; Atheism and nihilism are your new counterparts.
I miss my grandmother so much. Every part of my body aches knowing I’ll never be able to touch her hand again. She always told me that if anyone hit me, to hit them back twice as hard…I’m trying my best to knock the shit out of life. When I knelt down beside her casket I promised that I’d speak to her every day and that I would write her life story, like I had promised months earlier. As cliché as it may sound time really is commensurable to sand. There’s no hour-glass to flip back over once time is up.
So now what happens?
I move forward, the way I always have.
I’ve been through it all, I’ve slept on park benches, worked grave yard shifts at the local grocery store, ate rice and beans for literally a year, threw all my shit into a hamper at the age of seventeen only to work three jobs during my senior year of high school, and I major in two subjects most women my age would not fathom to study. I’m tough…just like my grandmother.
So here I am taking another shot, throwing another punch.