A Beautiful Mess

My life is a paradox. Or an oxymoron. Or whatever the hell should be the correct term. (Why is public education failing me?!) I'm one "I'm almost ready" moment after another. I can be awfully nice. My room is a fine mess. I'm cautiously optimistic. My future is as clear as mud. I believe in free will. My life is one big beautiful mess.

I kinda like that. A beautiful mess. I break down. I freak out. I cry because there's no way in hell that I can finish that book report and study for my pre-calculus test and make A's on both of them. My rooms a mess. I'm not the best at the things I wish I was. But I make good grades. And I love what I do. I constantly try to find joy in everything. I find happiness in the little things. For every shitty thing that happens, I have something better that totally out does it.

My life is a mess, but it sure is beautiful.

I guess that's the secret. The key to the door of life. Who cares if your life isn't great and it's not how you planned as long as you can find the beauty that I guarantee is somewhere in there. Nobody likes a mess, but a beautiful mess is totally different.

And what makes it even better is that we define what beauty is. We write it ourselves, the definition set by our own personal standards, which can make finding beauty so much more easy. I find beauty in other people's happiness. In a good sunset. In drinking Coke from glass bottles. In birthdays. In a perfect picture. It's all simple things that easily turn my cluttered life into something better.

I'm sure most of you readers have a mess of a life. Now go find the beauty in it. And there you have it.

A beautiful mess.

Have a fabulous Saturday.