This Christmas has been weird. Emotionally Hard. I seem to be focusing on everything I've lost, rather than everything I've gained. I seem to be sad a lot. Mad a lot. Mad that life is hard. Mad that things will never again be simple, easy, or uncomplicated. Mad that I have grown up and have become jaded, or clear-sighted perhaps. The rose coloured glasses have become cracked and true colours are streaming in, too quick, too bright, too much. I feel broken at times. I feel scared now, of making mistakes, of taking risks, of risking it all. I'm in conflict with myself. The child in me, tells me to throw caution to the wind, risk it all, don't let fear guide you. But the adult in me. The adult who has been hurt, who knows how brittle pain makes the heart, how narrow of a cliff I am walking between sanity and insanity, tells me to hold back, to be afraid. The hurt in me tells me that life is hard, that pain is enviable. That through experience I have learnt that the hard times build up and up until you can't possibly conceive of climbing the mountain. Experience tells me to give up before it all becomes too much and I fail at this again.
However through all this fear, there is a voice. Though small and sometimes unheard. It is the voice of hope. To this voice, is whom I choose to anchor my ship.
