Hard work equals happiness? Security?
Has anyone that can see this bailed hay with no gloves on? Even just a few times? Unless you’re bear hugging the bails, after a few hundred, the strings begin to draw blood. That is unless you’ve already got calluses half an inch thick, in which case it’ll take a few hundred more to dig deep enough. I did not at fifteen. (Lazy, right?) It only took maybe a hundred before I was cursing to myself and wanting to leave. I didn’t though, I stayed and helped finish all twelve hundred,the last four hundred of which were alfalfa (heavier and dusty as Hell. Sooooo good for asthma!) We’d throw them on the trailer, drive them across town and unload them in a barn. Twice the work but the pay was awesome for a fifteen year old. After we finished I offered to assist later if needed, but I never got the call. Probably for the best, I’d have had harder hands. Frankly I like the pain. I like fighting it and winning.
My point is that hard work is easy. It’s easy to push through the pain, even if you aren’t used to it. Even if you complain every step of the way, yet you tell yourself to keep moving for whatever reason that works. But it doesn’t guarantee happiness, or security.
It’s because of experiences like that, that I’ve become more cynical. But I’m told my opinions are false and with no basis because I’m too young to truly understand. Maybe that’s partly true, but no one has ever called me stupid and had the proof on hand, or anywhere to back that opinion up. Foolish maybe, but stupid? Nope.
Maybe I fuck up a lot. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I should step in line like every one else.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
I’ll tell you what though, I wouldn’t be able to do some of the things I can if I did that. I won’t dull myself for the default way of thinking, no matter the merits it has. And it has many I will admit that easily. Frankly I wish I could. Peace of mind is better than stress, but it’s not happiness. Not even a good substitute in the end from what I can tell.
So my hands will stay soft so that I can feel the pain. It’s the only opinion that isn’t trying to govern me, it just let’s me know what’s real, and what’s necessary. It offers a way out, but doesn’t pester. It suggests, but doesn’t condescend. It simply tells the truth–You want to quit, but you’ve come so far, so don’t.
Surely that’s something we can agree on.
If I need guidance, I promise I’ll ask for it, because my real enemy is myself. I’m a persistent and terribly silver tongued bastard when it’s just myself and I, having our back and forth. You can’t beat me, only I can. I don’t try to beat you so leave me be.
Just a little note from me to you.