I wondered why we had to fail, why we had to fall, why we had to err, why we had to make mistakes that seemed impossible to recover from. But then I understood. Life's going to come at you with brute force. It'll lash out just when you least expect. It's going to beat the living day light outta you. It's going to make you feel you ain't nothing. It's going to make you feel you ain't shit.
It'll rape you. It'll harass you. It'll try to mar you.
And every single one person who promised to be by your side? Those who swore they'll be there to the end? They'll renege on their words.
Almost every single one of them.
The mistake we make is trying to prove they were wrong. We forget it's the least of our worries. We try to skip a thousand steps after a fall, forgetting we are to rise to our feet first before we can even think of jumping.
With life being the funny son of a bitch it is, ceases the advantage, knocking us down one more time. And just when we lose hope in ourselves, rather than admitting we gave up, we call it fate.
An orlay, a kismet, and every other possible word in existence to shy away from the truth. We forget we are the masters of our fate, the captains of our ships. We give up when all that's needed is one last push.
One last attempt.
Just one more.
Just push.
For if there was nothing called hate, love would make no sense.
Without being broken hearted, true love would only seem to be taken for granted.
For without failure, we wouldn't know what it means to excel.
And without evil, being good would seem normal.
If we wouldn't give, the word receive wouldn't be in existence.
For if we wouldn't die, being alive would only seem compulsory.
For if our lives were to sail smoothly, there wouldn't be the need to pray.
For if mysteries weren't in existence, we wouldn't see the need for a God who would unravel them.
This is a guest post submitted by 
To learn more about guest blogging on Steemit, check this
