The world has a way of kicking me in the face. It waits 'til I'm smiling, naively staring at a promising horizon, imagining all the perfection and joy I have coming to me. Then...BAM! My lip is bleeding, eyes watering so bad I can't see the color of my own shirt, let alone a promising horizon.

I am stupid, though. I forget how it happens. Every time I see that horizon, I stare expectantly when a smarter man would just duck. Thats my curse, you know. Rather than floundering through life in the fetal position, I stand tall —brave and dumb—for the next kick.

But maybe it's my gift, too. I allow myself to be happy in the face of so many reasons not to. Maybe that's how I kick the world back in its face.

You can kill me, world, but you can't defeat me.