“For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

I find this to be certainly verifiable.

We live in a world of much hate and little appreciation. Of course I sound a bit dramatic, but I want to make a point of it. I want to open some perspective to the naked eye.

Every day. Every single day I remind myself that "this isn't it" and "everything is okay Mary, every thing WILL work out when the time is right, keep going".

I don't call myself ridiculous for saying these things, usually. I don't think of myself as helplessly searching for a reason to be kind, to smile, or to get myself out of bed in the morning.

I want to smile. I want to be kind. I want to feel the love of those around me.

I crave positivity, not because I'm secretly depressed or dispirited and attempting to reconstruct myself, no, not anymore, that is not me any longer.

I do this because it's right--it's what is good for me. But I do so desperately wish I could shake some people's shoulders and say 'hey you, what are you doing, cheer up buttercup, you have a million reasons to want to be here'.

Overall, the bad does not overpower the good of this life.

It is unfair, check.

It is messy and ambivalent, double-check.

But it could be so beautiful if we let it. If we allow our minds and our souls and our spirit to be open and to love and to radiant optimism, we could all be a little happier.

I am in no way saying "get over it", I am not saying there aren't stormy clouds raining down on us every chance they get. I am saying don't take life too seriously, don't let your mind wander to dark, dark places.

Do not let the sporadic flashes of hate change the way you view the world, it will destroy you.

I feel bad for people who cannot see good, feel good or do good.

I feel bad for you if you cannot handle life's daily shots at you. They always end, there is always an end and there is always a light to be seen.

I sound dramatic again, but this is realism. This is all so real, the pain, the agony, the exhilaration of the world, and the feelings of all those who inhabit it.

I am perplexed by how quick we humans are to dwell in our bubbles of "why does this happen to me" and "my life is ruined". I cannot listen to it, I refuse to because they have no idea how incredibly wrong they are.

There is always a way to pick yourself up again, you may have to do it a hundred times, but you get a little better at it each time.

I am fixed with the idea that although some things may stay with you forever,it does not create you.