The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

by Mariana Zapata

There was only so much cranky little bitch you can handle in a day, even if it was called for.

What no one tells you is that the road to accomplishing your goals isn’t a straight line; it looks more like a corn maze. You stopped, you went, you backed up, and took a few wrong turns along the way, but the important thing you had to remember was that there was an exit. Somewhere.

I mean, he wasn’t exactly a teddy bear on the best of days, but he usually wasn’t a model for Asswipe & Fitch.

When life gives you lemons, you get to choose what you make out of them; it doesn’t always have to be lemonade.

But I didn’t want to avoid alcohol because I was scared of what it could do to me. I didn’t want to demonize it. I wanted to prove to myself that it wasn’t a monster that destroyed lives unless you let it.

Life was all about choices. You chose what to make out of what you had. And I wasn’t going to let it make me its bitch. I could be a mature adult who knew her limits. I could be a good person. Maybe not all the time, but enough.

“I’m starting to understand that you can always make time for the things that matter.”

love was a dream. And just like a dream, there were no assurances behind it. It didn’t grow on its own. It didn’t blossom without food to feed it. It was the greatest in its subtleties. It was the strongest in its selflessness. And it could be forever with someone who wasn’t afraid to never give up on the possibilities it presents.