If only the graces would define the meaning behind the hole they placed in my heart, I would understand the why as I traverse this earth, lone souled with no arm to hold.
Others stand beside me from time to time, but never long enough for me to feel the weight removed from the boulder on my mind. it eats at me. It gives me to ground to stand on and I wonder if I have reached my end. Is this the way of the chosen? Or has the devil claimed me as a toy?
I wish I could say to the child, it is for a reason. Yet, when I utter those words, the laughter in my own brain escalades to a point of hypocrisy at the thought of having a hand to hold. A body to be embraced and comforted within.
We enter. We exit. We smile and laugh when the pain is so unbearable that we can smell the urine from the bottom of the toilet bowl as our drunken faces cling to the coldness it provides.
How else could we possibly survive? Please, tell me the tale of the God who has my whole life in plan, who gives all. Yet, I know within this wreck I call my life, there is a beauty.
I have lived. I have loved. And I promise to do it again. Every single day. While there is beauty in the high, there is also beauty in the fall.