This year

I turned thirty-three last week. It seems significant. I had been waiting for thirty-three. I thought something great would happen that year. And it did. Violet happened and happiness happened. The pursuit of happiness. Deserving it and going after it. Moving forward. Accepting that everything happened. And being here with it. And being imperfect but not broken or in need of salvation. Shirking that self-pity and destruction from within. Being done with self-loathing and sabotage. Because it is boring and so last decade. Feeling traction with the mass of my own existence. Being held on to and holding on but also a cipher. Being steady but also warmed with the wind that blows through us all. This isn't turning out, it's not what I meant to say. I haven't had time to write them down. All these thoughts. Nothing but looking and thinking this week. This year, that is the foundation for action. I'm finally here, where I am supposed to be. And it has never been more clear that I am responsible for my fate and that it will be over in a flash, and that there's no use lamenting the passing or trying to slip out of consciousness. Make yourself a match for time with acts of greatness. Practice to get bigger and faster. Move with grace that meets the gods. Learn compassion and be in love.