Whoever said the end is just another beginning was a liar.
There are beginnings and there are endings. At this moment, I am in between the two.
I can’t stop thinking about her face sometimes, when the moon is bright and romance fills the air. I can’t help but foster these dreams in my heart of someday overcoming this fear and loving a person who loves me. But this fear is all I’ve ever known, except maybe once or twice I felt as if I could fly.
My wings are made of wax and the sun despises my flight.
This is the end. This is the beginning.
—
Keep your head up.
We’re fine.
Just keep your head up.
I swear we’ll be alright.
—
Perhaps we are simply terrified of losing, so we scream that there is a tomorrow, we surely will not die! We are mortal in every way. I cannot escape my skin.
I’ve been haunted by the same ghosts as my brothers and sisters, yet we claim that it gets better, denying the past, nay! denying the very existence we claim exists.
I believe it can get better. We can be the change.
But I’m scared.
What if we are not the ones? What if these dollar bills are better burnt than spent in our stead? What if all our dreams are nothing more than that?
I can only hope. and I hold on tight, believing.
