While browsing for inspiration I came across this list of 'creative challenges' on Pinterest, and one of them caught my eye, it said something along the lines of: "Find a strangers picture and write the story of their life" now this is an AMAZING idea, but I decided to step it up a notch.

It has become inevitable not to gamble.

It really has. Everything seems like some sort of sign that this is it "it's going to be my day! Yes! The day that I win is today, it's obvious…the number on that car, didn't you see that? That’s the winning number for God's sake!"...just ridiculous.

I mean, the world is full with f*cking numbers, every one of them seems like a sign, and every shitty day at some point feels like its going to be the one...but then it's not and it becomes shittier than before. That's probably why luck was invented, to make you constantly hope for things you practically have no chance to get: to entertain the scenario…like getting that dream job, finally getting discover for that ‘awesome unique talent you have’, or meeting your soulmate that's been –of course- waiting on you just like you've waited on them “it just hasn't been the right time” you say to yourself. 

And of course, my personal favorite: Winning.the.fricking.lottery.

All this to forget how pointless life truly is. The inventor of luck was indeed a genius. Yet, at the same time, I can't help but wonder: Why is our life without constant risk so stale? So damn boring. What's the point in breathing if you're just going to let the air go? No point in living just waiting to die, your soul barely surviving. I've heard people say it's the experience, the climb. Masochists. What's so awesome about losing? About doing awful jobs you're overqualified for? About settling for friends and lovers that don't fulfill you, that don't know you? Constantly pretending. Confusing happiness with contentment. 

Other people talk about “the little moments”. 

Now, those I know!  They’re beautiful. When you connect with someone. Having a crush. When the breeze blows your hair so gently, that for a moment you confuse it with your momma’s hands. When water drops compete in your window. The smell of rain, and that fucking moment when you win. Oh, that distortional moment when you feel like everything is meant to fail and then you just don't. 

And hope crawls its way up. 

Everything now feels OK, better than ok, like you can get that job and those friends and that lover, like learning a language is easy and painting is just pouring your feelings in color, like success is around the corner. So you stay positive like this every day, “you're going to keep winning, stop being so negative” you tell yourself, and believe me you try! But after a while you just stop, y'know? 

And that goddamned cycle continues, nonstop. You gamble, lose and gamble again just for that little moment, even if at the end it means nothing. That brief satisfaction becomes enough. 

Life is the worst type of bitch y'know?, because it's the one you'll never stop fucking with.

-Bárbara

(or I guess, the guy in this picture)

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