I used to have plans.

Ideas of what I wanted to do with my life. Things that I thought I could achieve. Now I know better. I still have my dreams, the things I like to imagine when I lay down to sleep.

Clean. Elegant. Beautiful. Calm and direct and without doubt, insecurity, longing.

The reality is opposite. I try to make it as much like my dream as I can. It's not easy; small things take form that only serve to highlight the stark contrast of what is, and what should be.
There are many things that should be, that are not.

Vague ideas of what it is I want, and the realization that they will never be what they could. Always forced to settle, to make do. What was once a struggle to accept the disappointments of life has now become a quiet resignation, acceptance of the world in the way that it is, and no will to change it. Only to make due with what I have on hand.

There's never enough time, never enough money. The world wears on in a silent grindstone. Hope is discovered to be a false prophet and instead replaced with the unavailable but uncorruptable blind faith. An endless belief that things have to change, and that maybe they will change for the better. Maybe that's what hope is.

I'm tired again, but this time the difference is I try anyway. The knowledge that nothing will change unless you force it to, unless you apply your will. Trying to eke something out because there's nothing else you can do. Trying for the small victories because that's all there is. Feeling that that's all there ever will be.

Tired, but trying anyway because I'm sick of feeling helpless. I don't let myself get very depressed anymore because I got tired of feeling that way. Choosing stubbornness instead. Guess I've forgotten how it is to let yourself feel helpless all the time. It's not realistic. I don't let myself despair anymore because it's not worth the effort.

You let yourself feel miserable and for what? There's no point living like that. It's not logical. Not to say I'm always happy, or even often happy. Most of the time I just get by. Asking myself "What's the plan for today?" and trying to follow it through. If I fail there's always tomorrow.

Honestly, I don't think it's anything more than the fact I just got sick of feeling crappy. Of letting people or events make me feel crappy. I still feel like hell from time to time, or beat myself up. But it's nothing like it used to be. Rarely lasts more than an hour, then I realize that it's really no big deal. Move on, let it go.

If it makes you unhappy then it's not worth your time. Take the sad things, appreciate them for what they let you feel, then move on.

Still struggling to really let myself appreciate the good things. The happy moments. I think I'm afraid to, because they usually lead to disappointment or sadness. I have to learn to just accept the emotions, all off them.

You can't feel the greatest highs if you deny yourself the lows. I'm still afraid of the lows, but less so than I used to be. And I let myself climb out of them now. Didn't used to be that way.

Maybe some day I'll get it right, until then I'll just keep trying from day to day. If I fail one day, there's always tomorrow. The only thing I know is if I give up I'll never even have a chance at getting it right.
Besides, it's something to do.