these days, i write like my life depends on it. i write so much that it's beginning to scare me. I write so honestly and with such vulnerability that I find myself reading it only once. These days have been full-

In the best and worst ways. Nothing really makes sense the way things are crashing in on me. Then again, when do they ever? The Sem's out and I don't think the reality of it has hit me entirely at this point but I think im feeling a kind of emptiness I haven't felt for weeks, if not, months since school has begun. It is, like all things in my life, good and bad. I really wish I had the words to epitomize the kind of season I am in but I feel like after writing it out word by word on pages and pages of journal entries, they have expired and I can no longer find them inside of me.

There is a light at the end. and somehow, it finds its way into my chest; I feel it pulsing inside of me and fighting to grow. It's not much but it is something. So whatever the end holds, let it come. Let it come crashing in waves. Let it tumble down hills and dive down cliffs, all through my chest. Let it crumble like towers of dust and crack like porcelain and glass. When it goes down, I will hold onto light like I do your hands when I'm afraid. 

I will still be here.