I’ve been thinking a lot about beginnings and endings. Sparks set off that lead to something incredible and the eventual downfall. The start of the day and the end of the evening. Cycles and repetitions that all inevitably lead us forward, and in turn leave us standing in the same spot.

With my 27th birthday right around the corner, I once again am taking an exhaustive look at my life, something I do every time April rolls around. Some years it leads to deep dark depressions, and other years it leads to hopelessness. But every year it has me asking myself, “how could someone who has accomplished so much, and who has everything that he needs, be so incredibly nit-picky about the things that he hasn’t done?” And I can attempt to convince myself about my benchmarks, and the love in my life, but it is the things that are lacking that seem to win the battle.

So, this year, I’m considering myself lucky. Sure I’ve had my regular ups and downs, but no pit of despair just yet. Perhaps it’s the numerology of my 27th year, or just the fact that things are generally progressing in a natural and healthy manner. Granted it’s a constant battle, I want so badly to lay my life out on the table and pick apart my bad habits, my failed stories and poems, my brutal attempts at finding love, and my overwhelming issues with image, but it aint going to happen. This year, I’m taking it head on and telling all those sneaking suspicions, constant cravings, and mediocre moans that they can shove it in their cunty-balls.

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