There are somedays where I beg the seconds to stretch into a lifetime to get to enjoy the happy temporary middle of the life I did my utmost to cope with, and other days where I pray for the sun to take over the somber dawn where I just felt deeply numb and insomniac; I get to deal with these contrasting feelings on a daily basis, imagine how consumed a human being I am behind the facade of wholeness I wear, imagine how many scars I have out of false hopes and second thoughts. Somehow there are nights where I dare to call myself a warrior just for recognizing the thought of how bad things have gotten, but I firmly handled them. Should I ever be proud of making it safely to the moment I am writing this or should I prep before things get way worse than they already are?
