revised.

Everyday we live is a risky business. The riskiest of businesses in fact. We step outside our wal-mart sheets, plaid pajama pants and toe socks and we embrace the world hoping to God that it will embrace back. If for only one moment it would hold you in its bosom and say: "you belong". Yet there is a simple peace about rejection, about not fitting in, not being understood. At first it's exasperating and you feel trapped in a self-shaking snow globe screaming to get out, screaming for it to just stop snowing so you can have a little clarity.

The child you were bought for grows bored with you and doesn't see all your innovations for self preservation. You are just another toy, another tool, another thing collecting dust. But in your own mind you are a pioneer for no one but yourself. It is YOUR story so you might as well write it and not let others dictate the outcome for you, and while no one is looking you may have just created the most beautiful snow angel the world has ever seen.

If we are so set on breaking the mold and busting the figurative boxes, why do we subject ourselves to "just" cliquism?

I'm not bread to speak my heart so often as I speak my mind. This was a feeble attempt at both...but I'm afraid I've already lost my train of thought.

However, I do have to conclude, at least to myself, on this cyber-paper, that the words that come out of my mouth are from thought in my head which are invoked by feelings in my ticker. Passion. Passion to me is never dull, complacent or exasperated.