Rhythm is natural. It’s easy. Rhythm sets a tone. Sets a way of being. A way of life. Rhythm is unforced. It’s nurtured by perfection and guided by simplicity.

But I fucking hate rhythm, because, by its very nature, it revels imperfection. Like tectonic plates shifting beneath my feet. Rhythm demonstrates and castrates at the same time. Everytime I see rhythm, it’s in something else. Rhythm’s never in me. Lol. It’s never in me.

But I love rhythm, because it gives me something to chase. Something tangibly intangible. And like music’s heartbeat, rhythm gives life. Never takes it away.

I guess I hate to love rhythm until rhythm stops cheating on me. Lol.