If I walked into the Sistine chapel, the corners would not be the defining feature.

Art happens on walls. People hide in corners.

Corners encase the room, closing it off to anything on the outside. But the walls say so much about what's happened to it. You can see the complete history from there. How many coats of paint it had, dents, holes, scratches, paintings, posters, even doors.

There is no equality, only the view from common ground.

If we all viewed the world on a flat surface, I think we get a pretty clear picture of equality.

If everyone gathered on an open field to look at the sky, we would all be able to see it. We would see the giants, the big, the small, the average, the fat, the skinny, and even the blind.

To ask the giants to move to the back would deprive them of the spot they got for being early, and to ask them to kneel would deprive them of the miraculous view they could potentially have.

For the blind to ask you to describe it would distract you from enjoying the moment.

If you ask those who brought ladders to come down from them, it would be punishing them for being prepared for the giants and aware that they're small.

You can try to stop people from barging to the front, but you would likely realize in your attempt to stop them, you're barging forward with them.

There would even be those so concerned about fairness and everything that's wrong that they never figured out how to enjoy the view from where they are.

There are advantages that we've earned and disadvantages we don't deserve. There is no equality; there is only how people treat one another.

Because somewhere in the crowd, there is a man with no legs sitting on a giant's shoulders.

You know you love someone when you choose them every day.

You wake up in the morning, throw the covers off your body, and sit at the edge of your bed for a moment. Thinking about all of the things you don't want to do today. Maybe you don't want to get out of bed, go to work, run errands, or even deal with people in general.

Before you get the chance to lie back down, something gently touches your back.

You turn around and see someone lying next to you smiling-- hopefully, it's your favorite person. Suddenly you find the strength to get up and do everything you hate for someone special to you. You may even go the extra mile and do something special for that person. Just to see the smile on their face.

Your door burst open and a few smaller people burst in excited to see you. And you're reminded even more of why you do all those things you hate for everyone that matters.

The day has come to an end.

And you're standing staring in the mirror mentally recapping your day.

Maybe you came to realize that your favorite person didn't appreciate you going the extra mile today, maybe your small people weren't excited to see you this morning. Maybe that part was a dream you forgot moments after you woke up and you live without the gratitude of others

At that moment, as you stare in the mirror, I hope you chose that person today. I hope you made them feel special. Even if it meant hopping back in bed and canceling your plans. I hope the person staring back at you knows they matter to you.

I discovered writing at the bottom of a pit.

Life consists of peaks and valleys. You'll experience your share of high points and low moments. The best metaphor to use depends on your life. Personally, I've been to the stars and I've been in a hole, so deep that there might as well not have been a way out.

I discovered writing in the deepest hole I've ever been in. I was at the worst point of an existential crisis. And I was at the crossroads of hugging the void and accepting my depression or figuring out how to climb. At that point, my thoughts were overwhelming. For a pretty laid-back guy, I could not turn my brain off and enjoy a moment of peace and quiet. The best way to describe it is life had no meaning and I wasn't suicidal, but I was waiting to die constantly. They say life is short, but not for everyone, sometimes this thing is LONG.

One day while I was online I came across some subjective advice that told me to write it all out. Don't scream into a pillow, don't punch a wall, or take it out on anybody. Grab a notebook and take it out on as many pieces of paper as you need.

Write when the thoughts are overwhelming.

Write so that you can see the entire problem.

Write to organize your thoughts.

But most importantly, write to get it all out.

Writing allowed me to begin to understand what I was going through. And figure out what the big questions I needed to answer were. Eventually, I was able to fill up the hole I was in and climb out. Rather than hug the void I was able to close it up for good.

Now, no matter how far life throws me, I can never fall that far again.

When I was younger I was told that when it rains it means that God is sad and the rain is his tears reaching the earth. So it didn't shock me when God was crying during my great grandmother's funeral. He cried with my grandmother and as her tears fell and my father comforted her I could feel the rain around me. Internally, I understood that God felt what my grandmother felt.

It all made sense.

Until my grandfather died and there was no rain. I asked my grandmother, "Why isn't God crying for grandpa?" she stepped closer to me, kneeled down, and leaned in just inches away from my face. Then she whispered, "I don't know. Maybe he wasn't as good of a person as we thought."

I responded, "That's not fair. God is supposed to love us all equally and unconditionally. He can't just pick and choose who to make it rain for."

" It's fine dear, God works in mysterious ways.

"No, that's not fair, Grandma. Grandpa died for nothing."

She looked blankly at me. Confused and startled. "No, grandpa died in an accident in the backyard. Accidents happen. God could be angry. Which is why it's so hot."

"No! It was hot when I pushed Grandpa off the ladder, it was supposed to rain! But now I know God only cries for good people. Are you a good person, Grandma?"

I don't think she remembers putting me here while she was eating her rice and chicken. Why does she keep looking around like she's lost something.

Oh wait! She's looking for me.

Shhhh... Don't make a sound, Isaac.

Perfect! Now she's getting up and going into the kitchen. I little more time left alive.

I must admit, I see why she sat here so long, this couch is super soft! It sure does beat getting eaten or getting put back into that weird machine that got really hot.

My cousin told me ovens and microwaves were my worst enemy, but that thing HURT. Not to mention it is surprisingly loud. This is a great tan though and this sour cream, chives and shredded cheese is a great look. A guy could get used to this.

Wait! Why does she have Michael in here hand!? Oh no, she's cooking him too! No, I'm over here you misplaced me between the cushions

Hold on, I hate Michael. Yes, Kelly! Roast that fu****!

(Kelly sits back down and eats Michael.)

She's definitely forgotten about me.

Dog: BARK!

What's this thing?

Dog: *Sniffs*

This can't be good.

Don't worry I'll avoid my own version of the "life is unfair rant". ( I typed it and erased it. I'll try to stick to the question.)

No, certain advantages are intricately fair. Earned advantages are fair, but not always realistic and earned upon an even playing field.

For example, in situations where better preparation led to better performance. If I studied longer than you and I got a higher grade then the edge was fair and understandable by both parties. However, the playing field may have been leveled due to complications at home, stress levels, and differences in physical/mental health. But studying harder and getting better results is a logical progression of events. One that cannot be argued against at face value.

You've already taken it; it's too late to turn back now.

From this point on, whatever you think of will become your reality.

There is no more dreaming from here on out.

Only experiencing. Control your mind.

Breathe deeply. Think clearly and positively.

You will live your nightmare. You will re-experience your pain.

I told you not to take it carelessly.

All I can do now is sit and watch you until it wears off.

I can only protect you from physical harm. What happens in your head is between you and the guy in the mirror.

Oh! I almost forgot. Don't look in the mirror. You told me you hate yourself. Remember?

Wait! Stop! Put That Down!

The first connection I ever formed with an animal was my ex-girlfriend's cat. I ended up stuck with him during her Christmas break from school, and we grew extremely close in a short amount of time. Strangely enough, I felt like I knew this cat from somewhere. I just couldn't figure out what that feeling was.

Our bond formed quickly, and I can't explain the chemistry in words, but it was like having a roommate I had known for years. There was no fighting, no accidents, or disagreements. We watched the same shows, he pulled the occasional prank, I'd enjoy a beer while he enjoyed some catnip, but most importantly, we gave one another space when we needed it.

I never admitted it, but I needed that cat during that time. I had just made it through an existential crisis, and my emotions were still stabilizing after I battled through the worst of it. And as I gained a better foundation of my own emotions and identity, he gave me a distraction when I needed one the most and a hopeful stare when I began to doubt myself.

He was the lift I needed--I miss that cat more than my ex.