Sometimes your heart is so bruised, you can't imagine another blow. It's been broken and taped back together so many times that you can't remember how it looked before it all started.
People marvel at how strong you are.
But the truth is you're not strong.
They don't see your private grief; the sobbing, the despair, the sense of utter hopelessness. Because eventually you stand up, wipe away the tears, roll up your sleeves and dig into the giant load of excrement that's been thrown at you.
Maybe no one is strong.
Maybe we all just deal with what we've been handed in the best way we possibly can, and in that process, we find strength that we never imagined existed within us.
YOU ARE READING
Musings of a Creative Mind
RandomSometimes I get these overwhelming thoughts that gnaw at me until I put pen to paper and they come out. I don't know where they belong, or which story they are a part of, only that they need to be expressed. This is a collection of these writings u...
