Just a truth
Some times I feel bitter. They always told me as a child that I could be anything I wanted. I could do anything I wanted. All I had to do was try. But as I get older, as I grow, I'm starting to fear that everything they told me was a lie. Its so hard to become anything, let alone what I want. And every happy feeling and memory of day dreams gone past are now faded and stained with struggle and the knowlege that everything holy, imortant, and sacred to you as a child seems to become challenged, demeaned, stripped bare and laid before you in a stark reality of the fact that there is nothing perfect except for the divine and unyielding struggle to survive. They tell you to enjoy the little things, stop to smell the roses, what they don't tell you is that these little plesures are all you have left unless you get really lucky and are bore into the right house or get the right start by some lucky stab of fate. Looking back, this entree seems to be nothing but bitter critism on this day's society but the morbid and tragic truth is that this is nothing but cold, honest, unemotional truth as I see it on this very day. Life could be worse, I could not have a home, could not have this computer, could be hungry or sick, could not have a car or friends. I've not hit rock bottem yet but I fear If I keep down the path I am following, then I will surely find an end that will not be happy.