My life is starting to feel like a revolving door of the same old shit.
Just endless courses of trials and tribulations, followed by a light dessert of me getting my lick back before the whole 10-course meal starts again. Near death attempt -> injury -> vague retribution -> more stresses -> rinse and repeat.
If it's not a concussion, it's a broken arm, a twisted ankle, or something along the same vein. Even in the rambunctious youth of my past life, I didn't get hurt this many times. Although now that I think about it, perhaps one good thing has come out of this carousel of tribulations, if I can even call it that.
I've gotten a lot better at dealing with this high-pressure life of mine. When I wake up this morning from a restful night for the first time in forever, I don't feel dread. Maybe it's because for once I'm not the accused, but the accuser. The victim of the entire situation.
