Me to Me when I've had a rough year so far. A poem of sorts.
It has recently been brought to my attention that I can blame every last annoying/bad/shitty thing that's happened to me this year on Saturn. Seriously, there's something to say about how your 29.5 year old self can either be literally "to the moon and back" successful or shitting the bed. Bed has seen better days.
Which kind of made me ponder what the actual-fuck success is.
On a micro-level, I'd be happy with cooking 3 squares a day (Success!), not stressing about work (Yesss!), and petting a furry animal (Cha-ching!). Which, lately, has just been my legs. I kid.
Big picture here is that there is no big picture. The good is not coming, the better is not down the road, and success does not come with time. It's all right here, right now. Reflect, I suppose. So take a chance. Don't stress about it. Eat the fucking donut.