I cried when I was born and every day shows why

Sometimes life is hard.

And you cry in your bed at night and you cry in the middle of the day for no apparent reason. At least not to anyone else. Or you are having a small dinner with friends and suddenly the topic turns to somebody who recently divorced and wow, relationships are so much harder than most ever imagined and oh well, another one bites the dust. And suddenly you are crying again. And in an effort to make some sense of you, your friend asks, Are your parents divorced? And you say no and you feel like a little idiot because you just don't make sense; you're just sad.

And you try to find some comfort by telling yourself that most things are senseless anyway.

But then there's the fact that you're crying. The proof, as it were, of just the opposite: that most things are actually jam packed with meaning, moving you to all sorts of emotion in direct correlation to it all. And the very fact that you are crying means that something indeed is very meaningful to you.

And then there's the times when you quickly post something on Facebook about an upcoming pole dancing class you are about to take for a friend's birthday party, and unwittingly offend people you love in the process. The truth is that the class was for a group of friends. It had nothing whatsoever to do with stripping, but had everything to do with the physical challenge, the gymnastics, the artistry and line of dancing in connection to a pole. And honestly, it was really fun. It makes for a strong feeling, holding onto that pole, spinning around like a fireman descending from up above. And then there's the fact that no matter how large unemployment looms, you're not about to go work at Fantasia. Like, ever. But there you go, you offended others with that status and sadly, that can't be taken back. And again with the meaning, but not what people might have thought you meant. And again with the tears.

And then there's the end of another day which honestly, you are just grateful to have gotten through. You hope for maybe some kind words in your inbox. You hope for some word from home. And you find kind words, true--but they are confrontational too. A part of life, yes, even a good part of life, but feeling especially heavy at this particular moment. Loving, indeed, but hard. Not easy. Not simple.

And you're done.

You're just done.

Good night, moon; good night world.

And you are struck with gratitude over the one simple quality that both snowflakes and days share: no two are ever alike.

And you think it again and again and you feel comforted by the fact that the morning comes swiftly and brings with it a freshness through no work of your own. It just happens; it's what God does with his time, it seems.

And so here's to a new day.

One with statuses that are more circumspectly written.

With more sensitivity to friends.

And with less mistakes, in general.

Grace is in order, I do believe.