Resuming with Reason

This is my resume. I didn't throw it on the floor in a fit of rage or frustration, I merely placed it in the sunlight so that I could photograph it in all of its glory. I'm proud of my accomplishments. I'm proud of where I'm going. Hopefully, this is the year that PT projects it will be. My life coach. My mentor. My cheerleader. I know how he can believe in me so much - because I believe in him equally. He's rad, to put it simply. And he thinks I'm rad, too.

I'm afraid, though. I'm afraid of falling. And failing. And even just faltering a little bit. World, you are so scary sometimes. No matter how much my partner believes in me, no matter how much my girls do, I still have to believe in myself. It's there, I do believe, but these gaps and struggles let doubt creep in. And then I'm a right mess, I tell you. A right mess!!

Being human sucks. I wish I was a robot. Or maybe like a superhero. Or perhaps a shooting star that trails brightly for years and years and years without even trying. It's just what they do. They shine. And blaze.

Relentlessly.

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