Good morning. Today I’m going back to the dump to rid myself of some excess. The things in my life seem to have come in and out of my life as easily as air. But I fear some of the things are sticking to me, like phlegm or fear, accumulating, trying to take over, and I need to cough it all out before I become sick.
With my things I am a cold dictator, and hand out death sentences without a second thought. But don’t weep or pound your chests, because my things are as cold and heartless as me. If I should pass, this very moment, would a single one of them glance my way as they haul my body out the back door. I think not. Besides, like it or not, we are all at war with our excesses, and today is just my turn to take the fight to them.
May the best thing win.