Sometimes my very existence seems fragile. As though I'm somehow holding on by only a single thread, and the slightest gust of wind holds more than enough power to blow me over. At other times, I feel as though not even a hurricane could unseat me from where I stand on top of the world.
Occasionally when I'm on top of the world though, something will hit me right where it hurts. Sometimes something will stab right through my heart, and I will fall bleeding to the gutter. It is rarer for something to build me up from the ground just as quickly.
In my darker moments, I try to ask myself who I'm fooling. "It is trite but true that we are all lying in the gutter... But some of us are looking at stars," I say. "One never truly stands on top of the world. We're always rolling in the gutter, but sometimes our gaze slips skyward."
I pose an alternative suggestion for anyone who feels as I do often. Instead of focusing on the gutter, consider this: "We are all living in palaces. But sometimes, our gaze slips gutter-ward.''
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