reality is

knowing that I will spend my whole life analysing every moment
mending fences or baking sweets. but always engaging.
cleaning the messes up that litter my apartment and my mind.
wondering why my hair gets so damn confused when I put on a toque.
staring at the same silly posters and hoping for some profound awakening.
blending cream cheese and butter together, thinking it’s a good recipe.
embracing the unembraceable; holding steady in the face of danger.
flipping through my almost-not-there tv stations, searching for a break from life.
the constant pressure, self-motivated, to succeed at something more than this.
the constant tinkering the songs do to my brain.
endless moments where it feels like there is no reason to move on.
early bedtimes and stories and cookies and milk, all in anticipation of the unknown.

reality is very enjoyable. reality is very unique. and reality, my friend, is coming up to hit you in the head if you don’t get off the couch and accomplish something for once.