Story-books

I hate acne! Acne in general is bad. When it's on my face, I hate it even more. Go away you stupid red, inflamed spot. I hate you so much I can't stop picking at you so you will go away, only to make you worse so that you stay much longer than you should and you also invite your friend, other red pimple.

Annoyed. That's the word for today.

Ok I'm going to be honest. I mean really honest. We were having a discussion tonight about daily mysteries, death and coping. I couldn't help but think that some comments sounded phony. For instance, in general terms, I feel frustrated if I have identified a problem but I don't know the cause. Does discovering the cause necessarily create relief and comfort? I don't think so. If you can't do anything about the cause to get rid of the problem, knowing the cause propagates more frustration and helplessness. Amongst my peers, so many times I hear people say things that people want to hear, and not necessarily the truth. If you feel like shit today, say you feel like shit. Not that you didn't shit and that even if you did, it would smell like roses anyway.

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a half-glass full person, nor am I a half-glass empty. I'm either on any given day. And it may not be that far of a stretch to say that some people just never frown. But what I truly want is realness. Tell me how it really is, not how it ought to be in story-book endings. I don't think I believe in those right now.