I don’t remember the first time I thought, “man I wish I could be more…”. More classy, more beautiful, more funny, more smart, more stable, more serious.
I’ve lost count of how often I wished I was less messy, less emotional, less sad, less weak, less random, less awkward.
Seems I’m constantly wishing I had a better laugh, better genetics, longer legs, a creative talent.
And in the midst of wanting to be all the things that aren’t me I create a new me each day. Someone I have faith in to be more and less of all the things I wasn’t yesterday.
Or maybe… more realistically, I’m just a person. Just a plain person I’m trying hard to fall in love with each day. Someone a little less full of shit and little more settled in who I actually am.
It’s a journey.
An always changing kaleidoscope life we have. Even in the settled and boring moments the world around us is weaving color into everything. We are neither less or more than the next person. Just different colors colliding with the world around us.