I had this super meaningful, super real, conversation with one of my coworkers last month.
My coworker is an sweet guy in his 50s who lives in Kansas and lives a simple life. He’s got a shop out back. He’s got a wife that he loves. He’s one of those people that you just want to be honest with. I won’t bore you with the verbatim of the convo, but one thing that I said seemed to really get to him — it’s something that I tell all of my friends when they’re stressed, and I didn’t really think it was anything too profound. I said “Our job in life is to be happy. It’s not about money, it’s not about status, or fucking hot girls, it’s just to be happy…” This brought tears to his eyes….which was a little uncomfortable, but understandable considering his struggle lately. We talked about the coworkers that we love, the ones that we’ll always talk to, the ones that we want to keep forever.
The people in my life that I want to keep forever are real. I don’t know much, but I think I’m finally getting to the point where I understand who I want in my life and who (while I still care about them), I don’t know if I’ll keep forever. They all seem to be real.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I’m the most real person — I’ve got my shit. But the people that I love the most are people who just can’t help but be themselves. The ones who can’t change themselves. Every time I think about this, I think about my boss (who’s 50-something and who drinks a lot of beer) looking at a hot girl, pointing at himself, and saying “HEY….this don’t grow on trees.”
Does it hurt? Fuck yeah it hurts. Growing up, getting real, realizing that none of this really fucking matters….and that there are no rules. It fucking hurts. It’s full of heartache and trauma and being unsure of yourself and being unsure of the world. But the point is —- it’s life. This is your job. To figure it the fuck out. And to be happy along the way.
Be unapologetically you, my loves. You’re gorgeous.