From the time I was old enough to form an understandable sentence, I had  the adage drilled into my head that, “life is not fair.” I imagine it’s not fair for everyone at some point in time. We all make sacrifices, one way or another, bargain with ourselves to put up with this painful change or that, tolerate this injustice or that, for the sake of better times down the road. We wager that the “not fair” part will swing away from us and leave behind the “overly blessed” to make up the difference. That somehow life will become fair, even if it isn’t now. But that’s the point. It won’t.

There will always be those who look to us to have too much prosperity, and those who look like they live their entire lives in destitution and want. There will always be winners who always win, and losers who never get a break. Yet we all press on, all struggle to gain that little piece of security that will make us feel in control of our destinies. Our big brains just refuse to accept the fact that our world is full of chaos and anarchy that has no interest in our grand plans. No matter how well we prepare, sometimes life just happens, and it’s usually not fair.

My writing is a form of escapism for me from the real life that seems to just happen to me on an absurdly regular basis. Presently, I am juggling so many bargains with the callous world that ignores my goals that I can barely form a cohesive thought. All I can do at the moment is hang on and wait for some break so I can breathe and see what I’m left to work with. Bear with me.

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