If I were to say I hate my life it would be a lie. If I said I felt like it's unfair and cruel and filled with more stress and sorrow then it's worth, that would be true. But hate is such a strong word. I wouldn't say I hate the idiot driver that ruined my life or that I blame my circumstances on some false idea of a higher power. I would just say that shit happens. The trouble with shit is that it never seems to stop stinking. Even after you drop the load and walk away you can still smell it. Life is like living in the men's room at Dodger's Stadium. It smells like shit all day and then they clean it at night and you have a moments piece. Occasionally they put it off till morning or they don't do a good enough job so the smell is still there. In life we live everyday so that we can go home and hopefully have sweet dreams. Dreams save lives you know? They have saved mine more then once. 

In my quarter of a century on this earth I have learned one very important lesson, being alive is only measured by how much you live. The idea of spending the rest of my life at a job I hate just so I can pay bills seems like a waste. There's that word again... Hate. It rolls off the tongue. See I believe in placing blame where it's due and if I had to hate one thing in this world I know what it would be... Money. It's the only word more distasteful then hate itself. Seriously, if you had to narrow down all the problems in this world they would all go back to that nasty word money. Most people spend all their lives trying to make all they can so on their death beds they can smile at the non existent configuration of numbers. Money isn't even a physical thing these days. It's just numbers in a system that can be deleted.

But lets go back to a better word for a moment... Dreams. I love to dream. Day dream or night dream. It fills me with a sense of something wonderful. So few things genuinely have true wonder to them. That's why I hold all my dreams close to my heart, grasping that idea that anything is possible. But fulfilling dreams is a great deal harder. Because to pursue a dream you need money and I hate money.  So once again left alone in my own thoughts and trapped under the overwhelming weight of that word, money, I wonder if perhaps dreams are not to blame. Filling us with a false sense of purpose when the cruelty of money bars our way forward. I don't really know... All I know is without my dreams I would surely die, without money I will surely die. So I get to spend my life filled with hate. Hate for the unfulfilled dream. Hate for the cursed concept of money. And hate for feeling so hateful.