High on a Feeling

Jeans are like a second skin, to me. Just like how rice and beans are what my bones are made of. How I haven't stopped talking since I learned how to say my first word - right, mom? Or how I can't ever seem to contain my curls , my second-guessing, or my hopelessly romantic idea of life. I could never really shake the thought of there being so much more to go after, to find, grow into, or become. Sometimes, like recently, it feels impossible to hang onto the right perspective. To let go of the what if's and really embrace what's now. To remember that we're limitless and that a few life-lemons never hurt and will always do spiked -lemonade some justice. Maybe...