Every Day

Pain and joy are two things that drive us all, though the feelings mix like oil and water, they emulsify, and become the feelings that make us think every thought, act every action, every word said or unsaid, every kiss not given and placed, every warm embrace enjoyed, every tear shed, every nightmare, or lucid dream, are because of these emulsified feelings swirling in your mind. We strive for joy, to become happy, as sadness, pain, torment, and anger, cling to your heart, attempting to engulf you. We press on, every day, through all our sufferings and torment. Maybe they are memories, maybe they have happened years, months, weeks, days ago. Maybe the things that wound you are happening now, or even in the future. But still, we press on. As that is life. We, all of us, live each day, each life as a journey. Our final destination is never known, but everyday we get closer to something. Some never get to ever know. But we wake up every day trying to find our purpose, and if we have, then to fulfill it. We are all unfinished books with ourselves and chance as the authors. The genre is never a set one, and the story can end in as many or as little chapters as you need.