I don’t know how I still find it in me to keep looking forward to things, when almost everything I impatiently count down for, comes along to show me I never even wanted it in the first place. I don’t know how I still pray so hard and loud for things that I never stop consciously turning my back on, every time they almost even slightly show up. I don’t know how I still convince myself I have what it takes to try again every morning, despite how long my doubts keep me up at night. I really don’t know, and yet I’m so utterly grateful for that tiny little part inside, that still sounds like it hasn’t been taught how easy it really is to simply give up.
