Sometimes, I forget that I am young.
I forget that I have only been blessed with a quarter of a century.
I forget that mistakes are part of trying.
I forget that fear is motivation, not food for anxiety.
I forget that friendship takes kindness, and openness.
I need to forget those who have made…
Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.
It’s like the silence after a car wreck, the quiet after the settling grabble of a collapsed building. It’s all chaos and noise for a time, then comes the moment when it all must sink in and you must feel the weight of this new reality. That is heartache at its truest and most defining moment.