I'm trying to become more optimistic. I'm trying to force myself to be happy. It's the hardest thing ever because something always has to stand in my way. Something always has to crumble my entire foundation, then I have to rebuild myself up again. If it weren't for some, my foundation wouldn't improve little by little. It would always have this disgustingly atrocious crack that nothing could be supported on. I wouldn't have time to even think about making the inside presentable or even keeping the dust from settling so thick on each surface. A lot of what's wrong is the amount of time I spend trying to make sure the emptiness of it isn't seen by the passersby, or that my welcome rug is littered by the mud from the unloving's shoes. That there is comfort inside and beauty that greets you from within. That there's the glow of smiles on the windowpanes. When each monumental moment comes around, there is an aroma of love, caring and a sureness that this is what life is supposed to be like. I don't want there to be this dark cloud over the estate of my life forever. I want there to be an inviting smile at each entryway. A hug of friendship and welcomeness when you stop by to say hello. This old house is mine and each foundation gets better than the last. If I keep remembering that, then it will stay standing strong for years to come, new plaster, new floors, new visitors and all.