Living in reality.

It's hard for me to admit that I was living in a fantasy world, but I was. I had my head in the clouds, vision blocked by the foggy puffs of air that could stay or go as they pleased. Not a moment was constant, or in my control. I was paralyzed by the fear of losing it all, but what was it? The fantasy of a perfect world. A perfect me, a perfect mate, a perfect family, a perfect job, a perfect life. This is reality though. I am not perfect. I am me. My mate was not perfect, and though it bothered me that I couldn't not fix him, now I know that I am not capable. Only he can, with the help of his spiritual guide. I don't have a perfect life, nor do I want it. Too much pressure. Living with the knowledge that we are all created in sin, living a mortal life, predestined to fail as many times as it has been written, I feel content. I feel safe in the belief that I cannot make a wrong decision. I cannot make a mistake. My life is in divine order, and I am loved.