Me vs. Life

Many times I would sit and wonder if life truly hates me. I have this theory that life has some sort of supernatural power to sink me so deep into the ground where there is no light for me to find my way out and no air to keep from dying of suffocation.
Now don’t get me wrong; I don’t hate life and I don’t have it in my mind to commit suicide. I love living! I love being able to wake in the morning to another new day of adventure and being able to do all you can do because life is what you make of it. You have to be willing to put 100% effort into making it however you imagine your life to be and damn all those pulling you down.
Though sometimes you have to grab onto life with both hands and wrestle with it; strangle it with all the strength you can muster and risk going down a sore loser because some endings can result with something so beautiful that you can be blinded by it. That the mere thought of it would make you shed tears of joy or gaze at it in wonder of such adoration.
Recently however, my life is playing a game of whack-a-mole, with me being the mole. Every time I find myself coming up from that atramentous ground for a breath, I would get whacked back into it with that damn mallet and each time it would take longer for me to find my way back up again. Therefore, expanding time of being suffocated.  
But every time I get whacked, it would make me stronger. It builds my resistance and harden me to the harshness of life and it would make me want to prove that I can surpass and overcome this. No matter how many scars I may obtain or how bent out of shape I may be, I will arise standing tall and a better person than I started out to be.
So life, bring it on! I’m here with my boxing gloves on waiting for you to take the first swing, waiting to show you that no matter how hard you whack at me I will come out that hole every time like a freshly water seed breaking through its coat to turn into a beautiful daylily.