My muscles ache from moving my dreams of our future into a smaller space without you in it. At least, without you in it the way we once wanted you to be.
When fear clouds vision, sometimes people throw in the towel at just the moment that things were beginning to get better.
This is our fulcrum point, from where we move ever forward, propelled into each new morning.
Or, at least, I am moving forward, I am propelled. I grow increasingly worried that you are entropy personified. A slow drip of static sadness that seeps through you and shadows everything, blinds corners, dead-ends roads, and lies to you that everything is lost.
We are not lost. Here's my hand. Open your eyes. Come with me.
*I didn't make that photo but I can't find the original creator, so thanks to them.
When fear clouds vision, sometimes people throw in the towel at just the moment that things were beginning to get better.
This is our fulcrum point, from where we move ever forward, propelled into each new morning.
Or, at least, I am moving forward, I am propelled. I grow increasingly worried that you are entropy personified. A slow drip of static sadness that seeps through you and shadows everything, blinds corners, dead-ends roads, and lies to you that everything is lost.
We are not lost. Here's my hand. Open your eyes. Come with me.
*I didn't make that photo but I can't find the original creator, so thanks to them.
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