The beautiful mess of becoming human

The beautiful mess of becoming human is not a flaw, but a sacred design where love tangles with chaos in the thrum of a single heartbeat. We wake with hope in our chest and aches in our bones, craving meaning in a world that refuses to make sense. 

Smiles rise like the sun even on days when sorrow clings to our skin like spiderwebs. Tears fall without asking permission, holy baptism, fierce as fire. We laugh in the same breath that trembles with grief, dancing on the razor's edge of joy and despair. 

Pleasure kisses us suddenly, in moments we didn’t plan, and pain follows close behind, a shadow that refuses to lie.

Our stories are stitched with contradictions, and still, we keep creating because we must. We long, we reach, we lose, we heal, and sometimes we don’t. Yet in the breaking, in the unraveling, something wild and wondrous emerges.

We are flawed, fragile, radiant creatures pulsing with ancient songs and unrequited dreams. We bleed and forgive, we shatter and grow back stranger and stronger than before. The beautiful mess of being human is not something to escape it is the very soul soil of becoming.