If every day were like the one before it, then our days wouldn’t be worth living, but if every day differed from the day to come, then we’d be excited to live
When things go wrong, I don’t know where to turn but I always chase the storm, searching for omens I realize are never going to show up, why do I even try?
Why do I even try if what I’m looking for can never be found and I’m just going to walk back inside, drenched with salty, clear tears and rain drops that taste like dirt, because I’m questing for something specific in a fish bowl of infinite solutions?

When am I going to realize that life, as we know it can’t grant me every wish I want granted and can’t answer every question I feel like I need an answer to?
What compels me to run into brick walls to make sure it’s really what everyone says it is?
Why can’t I just accept things as they are and walk away like other people do?
Why can’t I be other people?

Sometimes I look in the mirror and what I see shouldn’t be what’s holding on to the cracked sink in front of it with a fear of falling,
What I see shouldn’t be scared and alone and banging on the glass like a war cry for help,
What I see shouldn’t be what I feel; it should be what I want to feel, what I hope to feel, what I need to feel
How do you tell yourself that everything’s going to be alright when the answers you need are never going to arrive and you know you’re lying to yourself to fight the pain?

When do you choose to accept that when life gives you lemons, you can’t make lemonade because sugar isn’t on life’s grocery list?
Life isn’t sweet and no one can change that, no matter how many birthdays you have or how many awkward glances you share with greased strangers in a mutual judgment zone
No Hershey’s Kiss or Netflix binge can change the way things are, or how they’re going to be
If you’re going to give up, then do it in the dark, during the storm, because you might find your answer before you go