I wish that there was a way to shatter all those broken pieces of glass.Grind them down to powder. Make pigment out of them.Paint a new world, instead of viewing the grime of this one through the bright transparency of my fears.
There's so much potential, so much to be and see and hear and do. It's exhausting living up to my own expectations. As much as I tell myself that it's all okay and the world will keep spinning, that the worry is useless. That doesn't stop it from building up.
It doesn't stop.
Everyone will be what they're meant to be, when the time is right. Sometimes we don't know the answers.
Sometimes we're not supposed to.
Sometimes there are no answers.
As long as we're asking the questions.
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