There once was a bug, who lived under a mug. And down the hill from the bug who lived under the mug, lived a lonely bug under a rug. Some say the reason the bug under the rug was lonely was because he didn’t have another bug to hug. Others said it was because his heart was incapable of feeling a tug. Numerous stories twirl developing into a disruptive swirl eventually defining a moment through the neighborhood no one understood. Days, months, a lifetime past It all goes by very fast. Not one bug went to see about the bug under the rug. If he came up in conversation, a joke was easily the end result of such contemplation. Content with stories, each enveloped in their own worries. Never seeking out the rug bug, all were happy and snug, many very smug.
The mug bug, quite cool. How all the girl bugs would drool. Oh, was the mug bug cool. One day, out of the way Life happens, things change, and all you thought was right ends up being deranged. Friends leave, leaves fall, and down on your luck it’s hard to stand tall. The poor mug bug, once so cool, was as popular as a broken-rusty tool.
Lonely, confused, no friends, no fame, this was not a state he wanted to remain. On an evening rather untamed; with misfortune seething under labored breathing, the mug bug fell. He began to yell, a life once so swell, had crashed and burned strait to hell. Many bugs walked by, distancing themselves from the mug bug as he cry. But one bug walked up and said hi. He asked, “Why is it that you cry?” The mug bug looked up, eye to eye, and replied… “I’m standing here looking at the sky, and all I can do is stand here and cry. I’m standing here looking at the air, and all I can do is stand here and stare. I’m staring here looking at the sky, How I wish I could grow wings and fly. Forever here, forever near, on this ground, forever earthly bound.” “You don’t understand, I had the whole world in my hand, and…”
The bug who said hi interrupted with a harsh reply, “You can sit there and cry, you can sit there and moan! But until you try, Until you change your tone! This wallowing in doubt, will only lead you to more drought! As a matter of fact, life is nothing more than some tragic act. If I offer you nothing more, these ideas I hope you explore… If unhealthy pleasure is what you aim to tackle, expect to end up in a bug zapper’s crackle. If pain is your muse, expect to lose. If your chosen feat is complete defeat, assume that monstrous game an easy beast to tame. But; if prosperity is your wish, know that that is a slippery dish. For in order to obtain and tame that beast, to avoid the agonies of defeat, diligence, ambition, and drive. These are the ideals one must strive. The only limitations are those we place on ourself, for how else should we judge another bugs wealth? If it means anything; I once was a rug bug, just like you. But now I live up there in a position favored by few. I live under a fallen bug’s mug, and oh so many other bugs wish they were me. But what they don’t see, is that I’m the same old me when they use to walk bye, all slick with a smiling lie. Each ignoring me, finding glee as they would poke and poke with joke after joke. With this lesson you are taught that your worth isn’t what you have, what you had, or what u got, it’s all about what you can, will, and wish to do. For untapped potential is how you escape a trap of glue.” The mug bug agreed, recognizing the strangers words as true. What happened after that, you ask? The mug bug lived, fulfilling countless task. Doing things he never thought he would, doing things he didn’t have faith he could.