So, today, my heart is a little sore. It’s like this for a few reasons, most of which are either not in my control, or which are in my control and are in the process of being fixed. There really is no reason for posting this, except that it’s cathartic and somehow more satisfying than just thinking it to myself. I’ve always believed that writing is a way to get things out, more so than with talking.
I think life is made of these things, these little things that make our souls desperate and our hearts bleed. Those little moments when the thought, just the thought, of someone’s face makes your breath stop. The times when you feel so alone and so surrounded by darkness but know, know, that inside, you’re stronger than life’s waves, stronger than anything that could try to break you down, because your strength comes not from yourself. And then there are other times, when you’re with family or friends and the sun seems to be shining even when it’s pouring rain. Life is a balancing act, and a balance itself. What tips the balance is what you decide.