Author: emilysagepineda

29 years young. Michigan State alumni. Weirdo, entrepreneur, food lover, and ice cream addict. Constantly searching for adventures and inspirations in this life of mine.

The down damned and dirty

Facing yourself, the down, damned and dirty. You feel the soot, the sweat, the oil on your face at night. You feel the cracks, the calluses, you pick at the gunk under the fingernails of your fiddling hand.

Facing yourself, the down, damned and dirty.

You know your ugly. You know your regrets, your hate, every unethical thought you’ve had, you spit at yourself in spite and shame. Oh, you know your ugly.

You execute yourself, so willing you put your head on the chopping block, you even cut the damn rope of the guillotine. Facing yourself.

But afterward, you pick up your head and place it back on your shoulders just so as to avert any suspicion of your crookedness. And you walk on.

Your foe, the eyes looking back at you in the mirror, mocks you because they see right through the makeup, the BS, the excuses.

You know what’s real and you know what you fight for. Which is why you walk with that load on your shoulders.

What you expose is your beauty and your strength. Your ugliness, bent, surrenders to the better parts of you. You know your ugly which is why you look so damn good.

Murphy, you motherfucker.

It’s freaky how accurate my zodiac sign is. Today my horoscope warned me of the power of Murphy’s law. Its power not being much of a power but a warning in of itself stating that “what can go wrong will go wrong.”

I laughed at this.

Murphy’s law is a joke I have with myself. I feel Murphy. I feel him good and often. He’s the one who taught me to expect the worse. He’s the one who showed me what the back of my head looks like.

While he takes almost everything, he gives one thing.

Strength.

He’s given me strength in ways I never wanted nor expected. Preparation for a downfall—doesn’t get more romantic than that.

He’s stripped me down to just my skin too many times to count. No matter what I decorate myself with he’ll get his long fingers on me and rip away what I think I know. He’s shredded my conceptions, cut my legs off at my knees, and replaced my eyeballs with grey ones leaving me to look up watching the pieces of my life scatter across the sky.

It would be easy to name him my enemy.

But in its definition, an enemy is a thing that harms or weakens something else. So while Murphy’s ability to harm is uncanny, his power to weaken carries a more complicated definition.

Murphy is no enemy of mine. He’s a companion who walks beside me showing me what there is to see. He has no bias, no opinion, and no voice. He walks discriminating against no one as he carries the truth.

He is the threshold of fairness whether we like it or not.