The sad ones they
see.
How some things are harder to embrace.
Dear one, you are loved, it will get better and I know it is hard to see how. It is hard to see when the dust settles, and you are surrounded by the ways time stretches and suffocates you.
And it is so easy for you to laugh, and I am so jealous sometimes because of the crippling consuming emptiness and sadness and awareness that you do not have.
Why is it so hard for me to be light?
These clothes don’t matter. This body doesn’t matter. We will be gone and everything you are will be gone and what matters? What matters?
Maybe the tree shouldn’t have been eaten from. Maybe it would have been better not to know. Instead of the gasping,
I am always gasping. And it hurts so much.