Touching down at the end of the day, we almost expect to collapse. The trials, the falls, the let downs...the goodbyes we really never wanted to say, they weigh down, on our shoulders. Yet we continue to walk. Some people shouldn't have to be faced with so much reality in such a short span of time. And as we sit in corners, we silently pray and thank God that it wasn't us, that we got away, unscathed.
And in these nights, we dream, of good times and times that made us feel like children, running through sprinklers, eating too many popsicles, peeing behind trees and drinking out of water hoses. This was my childhood. When did things become so complex...so complicated? When did feelings no longer make a difference? When did hope begin to struggle?
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