I am a fucked up sort, so I have often been told. My hobbies are widespread and eclectic, as are my friends and family and life. Irony is my bedmate, sarcasm is my soulmate, serendipity is my lover.
Salvation comes in many forms for us all, but we tend to lean towards one or two paths more than the others. In my particular case, salvation comes in the form of lechery, addictions, love, scandal, music, bleeding, pain, laughter, alcohol, and whatever other shenanigans I can get in to that make my heart race, my lips smile and my soul shine.
You crawl on your belly, on your hands & knees until the cuts and bruises fade enough to stand.
You slowly trudge… limp… sometimes fall until you can walk. Sometimes you can skip or hop or jump.
You simply take the first step, that plunge, and hope to fucking HELL you come out somewhat on top. Just enough to take the next step..
And if you’re very, VERY lucky, maybe one day you can run again.
Live or die, succeed or fail, survive or give up.
This is my life, my warped reality. This is me, running. This is me, succeeding. This is me, surviving. This is me, living; living each breath.
“What if there is no salvation, even in sin?”
….There is always salvation. ESPECIALLY in sin.