I used to believe anything was possible.
Anything at all.
At what precise moment did I ever forget to look up at the moon admiring the stars?
Life is hard for everyone, I understand this.
But every once in a while, not very often I admit it’s much harder for me.
You can’t see it on my face, the pain, the exhaustion of hiding a broken mind.
If we had a conversation you would never even know it.
How many times do I have to bring myself back, to the here and now.
Some days, especially now in the horribly sad and emotional ones, I wonder exactly how I do it.
And why do I bother?
I’m really not sure.
Courage, faith, grace, grit.
Maybe luck, possibly.
Who the fuck knows.
I’m mostly tired, and laugh a whole lot less than before.
I cry less too.
When I take a look around me; I understand others are suffering a whole lot.
Makes me feel sad on the inside, but also less invisible, less mental.
Can you see me now?
I see insanity and fear and hate happening all around.
I see love and purity and kindness, too.
I see you, beautiful human, through and through.