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.

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