SEVENTY NINE08.03.2023
how the rain reminds me of home, how i realize about the weakness in my heart, when did i let so many things slip out from underneath my feet. my hands feel so small when i hold them together, not worthy of the memories i hold, not worthy of the things that i have done, of the things that i am doing. i often have to sit myself down, remind myself, the earth that i touch is not the one that i spent my life familiarizing, but everything i have stemmed out of the things that i have held before and the weight of my present is a culmination of all of every single day that i have lived through.
how the rain reminds me of home, how i realize about the weakness in my heart, when did i let so many things slip out from underneath my feet. my hands feel so small when i hold them together, not worthy of the memories i hold, not worthy of the things that i have done, of the things that i am doing. i often have to sit myself down, remind myself, the earth that i touch is not the one that i spent my life familiarizing, but everything i have stemmed out of the things that i have held before and the weight of my present is a culmination of all of every single day that i have lived through.