adequately inadequate

I want to write about life. To write about life is to know life. And I ‘m trying everything in my power now to know what this life is all about.

I am imperfect. Perfectly imperfect. I make the same mistakes over and over and over again despite being told how to not make these mistakes. I continue to make the same mistakes. I continue to defy my strength.

I am weak. Not weak like my patients tend to be, not weak in the sense that I can tear my body apart because I tear my body apart every morning in the gym. No, I am weak in sustenance, in energy, in love for the life I am living. I am fatigued by chance and consequence and hope and yet I know that all these things are energy giving.

I am floored by inadequacy and yet my inadequacy tends to uplift me.

For where I am inadequate then I am undervalued. And where I am undervalued I can do no wrong.

We are a species thriving off of hope and failure and everything in between. We are a species of imperfection that only gains hope from moments of perfection. Moments that don’t exist.

Let us learn to live right now. In this moment that is perfectly imperfect, inadequately adequate. Let us learn to embrace what we have right now.