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I used to think that to be perfectly correlated with oneself is to demonstrate integrity.

If I just plan to act the way I hope I would in the worst of situations, everything will turn out right.

As it would turn out, even if one were consistent in their approach, perfect correlation in thought does not exist.

In addition, correlation does not necessarily mean causation.

We are not the cause of ourselves, in fact, we are our associations.

What we associate with is what defines us, how we act and behave in moments hard, and speak about ourselves to others.

Associations are things our mind makes before we even know we’re doing it.

Many associations are fleeting and fast, from chemical to social.

We may get a tasty snack, drink a beer, or smoke some weed.  

We do it because it makes us feel good, but then what we’re left behind with is an association.

Our brains decide that such things gratify our feelings in the moment and, thus, become a lever we pull.

And pull on that lever is something we do on an increasing basis as what becomes to shape is an addiction.

An addiction is a fundamental consequence of experiencing pain.

Pain is something we all experience as human beings, from the physical to the psychological.

However, it is typically the suffering we choose to spend our lives caught within when we cannot let go.

Who am I without my pain?  

Well, I’d be a person without excuses for why they aren’t doing anything with themselves.

Not that there’s pressure to be somebody in this day and age, but one must do more than breathe.

If the purpose of life is to be alive, then there is no purpose one needs to bother looking for.

The job’s done, folks! God did that shit a long time ago.

Sure, there’s been some interesting things happening lately, but interesting things are always there to take interest in.

What is even more interesting is what we do not find interesting.

One can learn a lot about themselves when they pursue interest in what bores them.

Even triggers them.

Mind you, I get triggered every time I make the bed in the morning.

But you can bet your ass it’s going to get made.

Every. Single. Day.