grief · Life · loss · Poetry · Self confidence · Self-love · Thoughts · Words

Most Days

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Most days I’m sitting idle at the intersection of hope and despair.

Either it is all going to work out or I will completely fail.

There seems to be no gray area.

It’s all or nothing.

Most days I’m wishing away the moments, thinking about the way things could be, the way they should be.

Regretting the past and all the mistakes I can’t erase.

It seems I journey back to the days of long ago more than I plan for the days ahead.

Most days I feel like I’m running around in circles.

The same endless day happening over and over.

Rinse, wash, repeat.

Most days I’m just trying to get through the day without getting lost in time.

I wake up in the morning and it’s as though my day has been fast-forwarded to night’s darkness in the blink of an eye.

I long to feel truly alive and in the present.

To feel this sense of purpose that everyone talks about.

To have a purpose.

But most days, I’m just existing.

Breathing my way through another twenty-four hours.

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