THE BREAK OF DAY

So, you did it again. You slipped, picked up, took for a spin, that thing you said you wouldn’t. You tripped, fucked up, and now you’ve got your head in the bin, because you did what you vowed you shouldn’t. And there’s shame now, of course, coming in like a bullying voice, absolutely thrilled to blame how, deliberately, you made such a terrible choice. 

It tells you you’re not allowed to participate. You can watch, not play, in fact, why not stay by yourself the whole day? Because you're somehow too wrong to be. You better fix that flaw for good, before you walk out the door, because no one out there would let you in. 

So, you did it again. You slipped, picked up, took for a spin, that thing you said you wouldn’t. You flipped, turned up, and for the win, proved that stopping, you couldn’t. The shame now, it’s terse, a beaten bewildered, voice. It’s tired and hoarse, it fears how much worse things just might get if you don’t change your course. 

What if now, then, is exactly your invitation to participate? This very experience is the life of your party, and there’s not a single second to wait. All that you call hopeless, is your waking brokenness, your luck in the draw. And this perfect mistake is what binds you to the break, that heralds the start of every new day.

Image: Just playing with fonts and pictures a bit more. And because I love misquoting things for comedy effect. Originally quote, “There’s a crack, a crack in everything, it’s how the light gets in”, which may or may not belong to Leonard Cohen or Ernest Hemingway depending on what side of easily Google’able internet debates you land on.