I’m not much good at the chemistry of life, but I know reality has a nasty but necessary habit of burning off impurities and changing your essential composition. Much as I’m a pyromaniac, this extreme type of fire is not fun or addictive. It’s painful and leaves you scarred, yet in time you’re purged and better for it– if you don’t self-combust, or incinerate others with you.
I’m not a cheery flask-half-full kind of person, as I may have hinted a time or two! It all sucks, and you know it. I can’t do the façade for appearances. That was my parents’ generation. Ours just let it all hang out, all that was wrong with our world, and where they could shove it. I learned to be highly critical and offended by ignorance. I still struggle with that.
Here in the waiting room on the other side of the proverbial tracks, it’s kind of like a lab. Life is a catalyst, doing weird nasty experiments on us, trying to burn away crap, and we are not amused. Yet I know in the end, the final product will be more refined and functional, if I don’t fight the process. Resistance is futile in the chem lab of life.